


Zeus Bound

by sparklight



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Captivity, Drama, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Rebellion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24078658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: “... beat aside a shameful destruction from Kronos' son the dark-misted that time when all the other Olympians sought to bind him, Hera and Poseidon and Pallas Athene.” (The Iliad, Book I)It's about Zeus as much as it's not.Mostly it's about Hera, the lies and truths she tells herself and others, her choices in how to act and what she does during the situation she's created. It's also just as much about Ganymede and whathechooses to do during this selfsame situation, for really, does he not have some grievances as well? This doesn't even take into account choosing to take the risk to walk straight into Hera during the one chance she might have to do something about his presence on Olympos.
Relationships: Ganymede/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hera/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	1. The Conspirators

**Author's Note:**

> I made a "cover art" for this fic, you can [check it out over here](https://sparklight.dreamwidth.org/10523.html#cutid1).

Hera seated herself with easy, unthinking grace, which didn't reflect the gently bubbling discontent within. It didn't even, mostly, have to do with Zeus' latest dalliances, though both Semele and Alcmene had hit her harder than most. 

No, if that really was all, her anger would be drained every time she took an opportunity to deal with Zeus' mistresses or put hardships in front of Alcides and Dionysos. Admittedly, Zeus doting so closely upon Alcides and Dionysos having been rescued several times and now that even Rhea herself had stepped in to cure him of the madness she'd struck him with didn't help, but she could have soothed it by striking again as opportunity arose later. No, those were old insults in barely new packaging, if very loud and bright such. Dangerous, but not unfamiliar. The same could be said of the youth stepping up beside Zeus' throne with sleek grace, the kylix already filled; Ganymede was a pointier insult closer to home even if he could not hurt in the same way any of Zeus’ mistresses could, but either way his presence was well-worn by now. If anything, he only exemplified the other issues, a nexus of sorts. An infuriating such, but there was no denying the simple perfection in the way he raised Zeus' kylix to his lips, taking only a tiny sip from the glittering red-gold nectar before he handed the cup over to Zeus.

No, much like Ganymede's person exemplified much, but not all, of Hera's discontent, the same could be said of the way her husband chose to take the kylix; his eyes may not be lingering on Ganymede, and the careless swallow he took of the nectar could for all intents and purposes be nothing more than what it looked like. He merely chose to drink from it in the same spot that perfect, bow-shaped mouth had touched seconds before, as if on pure accident. The first time it happened, she could have accepted it. Once every now and then, yes, it would inevitably happen if Zeus didn't pay close attention to avoid such indirect kisses. It happened each and every time.

Such a small, throwaway gesture, and yet it was as loud as if he'd stood on Olympos' tallest peak and bellowed. Was it petty to be so hung up on it? Perhaps, but like Ganymede himself, it was just another thing which exemplified Zeus' infuriating actions, the way he chose to conduct himself, neither of which only affected her. This was about what effects he might have on the rest of them, on the sphere itself, if he faltered, let things like how he acted here be reflected in deeper matters than just the personal. She needed a way to beat some sense into her husband. Some method where he could do nothing _but listen_ , and would have to bend to good reason and compromise more consistently. Zeus might listen to advice when it suited him, but it just _wasn't enough_.

The only thing was she could not do it alone.

"Thank you, Ganymede," Hera said, sharply cool but polite, and startled, wide-eyed green eyes cut up to her. It really was unfortunate they were of such pure colour, the lashes so perfectly thick and dark. The youth deserved his place, no less now than when he'd first arrived, even if she still thought Zeus could surely have chosen another position for him. Hebe _was_ happy, though, so it was a smaller grievance among the others and really, one of the times Zeus had actually taken someone's wishes into account.

"... You're welcome, Queen Hera." Studiously polite, there was not even a shade of resentment when Ganymede dipped his head before he went on to Poseidon. Perhaps wary, but that was only her due. Really, if it was just Ganymede, or only a handful of mistresses, she wouldn't be considering this. It wasn't, though. Just because it could be worse didn't mean it couldn't be better.

Raising her kylix to take a sip of nectar, Hera frowned. Glanced around the council hall, considering the other ten people on their own thrones. Threw her thoughts wider, not about to necessarily limit herself. She could not do this alone. But, she probably also didn't need to. Poseidon was a foregone conclusion, and though Hera knew she had to be careful - let him think he had more input and control than she would actually allow him - he'd be necessary. It wasn't even that Poseidon was displeased with his domain, or necessarily that he was so very displeased with the way Zeus chose to rule; it was simply that he, not so secretly, thought he should have the throne, if not Zeus' domains. She could use that, with care.

The others...

A more delicate matter. Demeter first, before she could leave Olympos after the meeting was over with. They didn't always see eye to eye, but this was a different matter entirely. There was no reason for Demeter not to consider it, at the very least, and more than enough reasons for her wish to go along with it. She knew very well how heedlessly Zeus could act, and it wasn't as if she truly wanted to change the order of things; it just needed a good shake, some proper _thought_. Nothing Zeus would agree to without being strong-armed into, though, Hera well knew.

"Demeter? A moment, please." Hera caught up to her sister at the end of the meeting as they were scattering over the courtyard outside, and while Demeter raised an eyebrow, she nodded and gestured for Hera to lead the way. She didn't take them very far, just enough out of the way from where most would be passing through, the room small and not used much. Still comfortable, though neither goddess sat down as Hera firmly closed the doors.

"What is the matter, Hera?" Demeter was frowning by now, crossing her arms over her chest as she hovered somewhere between exasperated patience and genuine interest. Autumn was getting closer, and it always made her a little more prickly. Unfortunate time to bring something sensitive up, maybe, but on the other hand it might serve Hera’s purpose, too. The reason for Demeter's growing discontent was, after all, ultimately Zeus' fault. Though Persephone was clearly pleased with her husband after getting used to him, and that only went to show love could spring in the most seemingly mismatched places. Hera was sympathetic, but it had still been time for Persephone to marry, and Demeter had gone out of her way to assure it would not happen, with or without her consent.

"Zeus needs to become a better ruler, and I am intending to make sure he has no choice but to do so." There was no reason to mince words or beat around the bush about it, so Hera said what she'd been thinking as she, too, crossed her arms over her chest. Conviction heated her voice, and if she was lying, it would have been to herself as well as Demeter in this moment. "He takes advice, but that's not enough. He doesn't _listen_ often enough. I've been altering the net Hephaistos used on Ares and Aphrodite, and while it can't hold him indefinitely, it should do, as long as it gets continually strengthened. With more than my own power, it will be a small thing."

"Hera..." Demeter didn't look as interested as Hera had thought she would be, and stepped close to her, arms falling open to grasp Demeter by her upper arms. Perhaps some things needed to be spelled out more obviously.

"Many of your issues could have been avoided if he was _better_ , couldn't they? We can ensure he _becomes so_ , even if we have to drag him kicking and screaming like a toddler to a bath, Demeter."

"He's a petty, jealous man," Demeter said, and it sounded like agreement, which lightened Hera's chest and turned her bubbling frustration into a burgeoning song of triumph, but then Demeter continued, "but we all are, in our own ways. Zeus' most important actions are wiser than they first appear, and that includes my daughter's marriage, though it aggrieves me to admit it, for many reasons. You want to risk the order we have for your grievances, and you further want to claim you're acting out of concern for his acts as the king, not as your husband? Leave me out of it, Hera."

"It _is_ for his acts as king, and I am not going to change the order!" Hera hissed, embarrassment and fury colouring her voice, her face, while she squeezed Demeter's arms as if that could explain her thoughts better, "Merely nudge it. And acceptable does not mean it can't be good, or far more preferably, _better_. I wish to do this for all of us!"

"Little sister." Demeter stepped out of Hera's grip, took one of the hands in both of her own. Her brown eyes were dark. "That might be true, but this is not the way to do this. As I said, leave me out of it."

In a swirl of flounced skirt and veil, Demeter left. Furious still, Hera slammed her fist into the wall, though was mindful enough not to leave any more trace of the outburst than a mortal punch would have. She was not doing this just for her regular grievances! This was important. She truly didn't wish to change the order of things, not with the upheaval that would bring, for while Hades might be an acceptable king on the throne of Olympos, Poseidon was out of the question and Apollo, while perhaps he could grow into it if she had to consider that possibility, was an even greater change of the order than her other two brothers. No. She would just have Zeus _change_. He might take advice when it suited him, and where many would do even less, she was no longer content with that much. Despite her refusal, perhaps Demeter actually agreed with her even if she didn’t want to take part; she’d told her to cease, but given no indication she’d go to Zeus.

Demeter's reaction did have Hera discard the possibility of going to Themis, however. If Demeter regarded this as a roundabout attack on the order of things, Themis would even more so. And Themis, whatever she otherwise thought of Zeus, clearly considered him an acceptable ruler, otherwise she would not still be residing in Olympos nor be advising him. Lips pressed thin, Hera left the room, and, in deference to her aroused ire, postponed going to Hestia. Instead she spent the afternoon writing a letter to Hades, sealing it with more care than usual, and readying to have it sent off the next time Hermes went down. It was lucky both she and Zeus sometimes exchanged missives with Hades, for her letter wouldn't be remarkable in such wise, and, while she didn't know how Zeus dealt with his own letters, she _always_ sealed hers. It really was nothing against Hermes, for he knew when to take things seriously even if that wasn't often. She would simply just not have anyone who wasn’t the intended recipient snooping in her correspondence, regardless of who the messenger _or_ the recipient was.

Poseidon, at least, as she'd (known) suspected, was all too interested in assisting. He'd be needed to be kept on a short leash, otherwise he might forget what the purpose of this venture was. Hades, though, turned out to be another disappointment.

_Hera,  
No. Even if your intention isn't to change the current order of the sphere, you have no idea what the greater reactions spinning out from this might be. You could cause unintentional effects all of us would want even less than dealing with Zeus' peculiarities. We have established the order and the rules, and Zeus isn't above them, none of us are. He has hardly shown so ill-advised action as to risk this. You know this, too. Let your reason rule. And if not, I will have no part of it, but I won't be informing Zeus either._

It was a small concession she hadn't explicitly gotten from Demeter, though Hera knew she would have told her, as a warning, if she'd intended to tell Zeus. The letter went into the fire, less because it was prudent and more, at the moment at least, because she was angry. He, too, would claim she was only acting on her personal grievances? 

This was deeply insulting! 

The one good Hades’ and Demeter’s refusals did were to have her consider being a little more open in who to include of those who might have the power needed. She'd discarded most other options for various reasons, but there was one, she supposed, she might reconsider. Though it wasn't ideal, in that she would be leaning more on personal grievances, Hera was rather sure Apollo might be an actual possibility. He was an obedient son and one of Zeus' favourites, but he was not without his share of rebellion. And with the whole Asklepios business recently... Well, she wouldn't have gone about it quite like that, but they couldn't have the mortals being able to resurrect others among them freely; killing the man had certainly taken care of the issue. Apollo had then made things worse for himself in his anger.

Hera had no opinion - at least that's what she would claim - about the possibility of Apollo ending up, temporarily or not, in Tartarus, but in the end he hadn't, and had recently come back from the punishment Zeus chose instead. It would mean he was still smarting from it, and still mourning his son, though she knew Zeus had been talking with both Themis and Hades about the possibility of resurrecting Asklepios as a god; which meant she needed to act before Zeus informed Apollo of the decision. She would not seek him out all the way into his palace; that was too conspicuous. She needn't go that far, though. He was around Zeus' palace quite often, both for duty, his father, and Ganymede.

Perhaps it was proof of the last or irony that would find him this afternoon in the large garden, seated under a blooming laurel. The smell of the flowers was sweet in the air and well suited to the music floating up around the tree and the two young men sitting under it, blond and nutty auburn bent over their instruments. It was, almost, a pity to disturb them, but Hera was of no mind to come back later. They jangled to a slightly ungraceful halt in the music when they spotted her, and Hera tried for a smile, but she was wound tight and frustrated. Ganymede would of course not expect to see her smile at him much, so he was probably noticing nothing off. Apollo, however, narrowed his shining eyes, which darkened a little with his consideration, and pursed his lips.

"Ganymede," she said, and the youth straightened up, wary but relaxed; Apollo was there and besides, they both knew she'd do nothing even if he wasn't. "I need to talk to Apollo."

She didn't need to say anything more. Ganymede bobbed his head in silent assent and stood up, glancing to Apollo with an inquiring tip to his head.

"Come check in half an hour," Apollo said with a little smile and waved him off, and Ganymede chuckled.

"You just want to torture me more." But he obediently left the lyre carefully to the side of the bench he and Apollo been sitting on, murmuring 'my queen' as he passed her and disappeared off towards the nearest entrance to the garden. Hera, with a thoughtful glance over her shoulder, sat down in Ganymede's abandoned spot.

"He _is_ getting better," she said, even if this was idle small-talk she wasn't really interested in, even less in Ganymede's progression in his musical ability with the lyre. Apollo stared at her, eyebrows raised. Clearly knowing that she wasn't invested and would hardly need to know of Ganymede's growing ability with the lyre or any instrument, really. The boy did not play music for her, and even if that had been his position, she wouldn’t have been willing to relax to such entertainment from him. Despite this, Apollo was willing to play along.

"He is, and I'm not sure if he wants to resent me for it or is pleased to expand his skills, but either way he's still indulging me," Apollo chuckled, gently dragging a couple fingers over the strings of his lyre and managing to make even that random noise into something beautiful before he put it aside, resting against his thigh. "All right. You wished to speak to me?"

They were alone in the garden, at least when it came to anyone being close enough to be able to listen in. Hera still took a moment to glance around; all she could see was blue sky, flowering bushes, the mosaic path she'd walked here on, and distantly, the orchards towards the front of the palace.

"My husband needs to become a better ruler," Hera said while turning to face Apollo again, hands folded demurely in her lap, voice and the tip of her head nothing but earnest, "and I want to make sure he has no choice but to _become so_. All I need is a little---"

"Yes."

Impetuous when full of emotion and still nursing hurt. Was using Apollo's nature against him as a youthful god, no matter how many years he lived, mean and manipulative? Perhaps. It served her, however, and so she would use it. Besides, what harm did it do to provide an outlet for all that indignation? In the rare event that they failed, the sort of punishments that might be doled out would probably not deter Apollo at this point. Zeus would not toss anyone into Tartarus for a coup that didn't even aim to depose or dispose of him, and anything else wouldn't be worse than he'd already suffered for his cleansing of the murders recently committed. Still, for as rash as Apollo could be, he sat back with a frown.

"How? He's hardly going to be easy to restrain."

Hera smiled, slow and sharp and _pleased_. "I have the net Hephaistos made back then, long before I resigned myself to resort to this. I've been altering it since this idea occurred to me. It won't hold him without being renewed, but with a few of us, and choosing a place like the megaron..." She trailed off with artful ease, shrugging. Apollo's frown slowly lightened and he nodded, light sliding down the graceful twists of hair that spilled from the knot he'd made of the rest on top of his head. The three of them should be able to do it, as long as they were both careful and diligent. The megaron, already a focus in itself, would aid them further. It wouldn't be possible only using their power, but with well-chosen material help, however precarious, it would work.

It would only work once, however.

Once was all they'd need; Hera would make sure of it. With Apollo's assistance secured, Hestia was next. If she couldn't have Themis, Hestia would be equally as good and useful, both symbolically and for her power. Talking of symbols and power, she knew where she'd find her sister. Hestia's kitchen was, as always, suffused with a warm glow that had nothing to do with the fire in the hearth, and Hera exhaled as she stepped inside, closing her eyes for a few moments.

The air smelled of warm bread, roasted nuts and maturing nectar, rich one moment, sweet the next. Briefly, Hera forgot what she was here for at all, but the soft brush of fingers against her arm and opening her eyes to Hestia, hair pulled up behind her head with some nut-coloured wavy wisps escaping confinement, smiling warmly and offering a kantharos of kykeon reminded her. Still, she let herself be led to the table in the corner, away from the heavy work table that took up much of the center of the kitchen.

"Here, sit." Hestia's smile lingered, but, perhaps predictably, she tipped her head to the side, a minute frown furrowing her brows and darkening her kind eyes. It was an unfortunate reminder of Demeter's reaction, for their eye colour was the same. Hera resolutely pushed the reminder of the similarity away. She would not treat that failure as an indication of what Hestia might think. "Did something happen?"

Hestia leaned forward, soft, rounded hand landing of Hera's slim wrist, and Hera sighed. Smiled, and genuinely so for a moment, because at least she could be nothing but honest for that question.

"Nothing that you don't already know about, Hestia," Hera said with a small shake of her head, tucking an errant curl behind her ear and taking a moment to sip the kykeon. She was here on business, yes, but one didn't refuse Hestia's food gifts, in whatever shape they came. She also wasn't in a hurry, aside from wanting to be able to get the plan moving. Zeus wouldn’t be having a talk with Apollo about Asklepios before anything was decided, and she knew nothing had been just yet. "But I suppose such matters have been plenty, recently."

Hera's smile turned grim, thoughts helplessly winding back to years before now - it still counted as 'recent' - and understanding exactly what those three dark days meant, that extended night. She might not have been able to find Zeus while he was with Alcmene, but she'd _known_. And then a little later, even worse... Semele had been one of those where there'd clearly been some actual _heart_ involved, burning bright and turning the whole affair into not just a romp, but something that, no matter the centuries she'd been married to Zeus now, always stirred up insecurity. Worry. Was this the one where Zeus would return to form, finally discarding the wife he'd been with the longest for a newer one? He never did, and, Hera knew well, he wouldn't do so for a mortal princess. Still, it always burned. It'd been rather satisfying to be able to nail that retaliation so well, though that hadn't even stopped the brat resulting from the union from being born! Incredible. Sometimes, Hera was reluctantly impressed by her husband's creative force as well as inventiveness and flexibility.

Despite Zeus returning to _this_ sort of form, he hadn't discarded Ganymede. That had been as much a surprise as it'd been a stabbing revelation on top of how long Zeus had kept the Trojan prince in his bed. An exception the boy may be, but an enduring one. She also wondered, still, what Ganymede thought about all of it; Zeus hadn't strayed after he'd kidnapped Ganymede up until Danaë, and now there’d been several other mistresses in very short order and such a heated flurry Hera suspected Aphrodite and Eros’ involvement in at least some of them. There was no way she could confirm that easily, or get some sort of retaliation, so that would have to be left aside. She'd paid attention to the boy out of some petty curiosity however, but while he'd certainly been withdrawn each time, she could not tell more than that. Surely he was not so very forgiving?

"Indeed," Hestia said, drawing Hera's attention back to her sister across the table, "poor Apollo. He shouldn't have gone after the Cyclopes, though."

Hestia sighed, worrying her left earlobe and the dangling little bit of intricate gold and amethysts that hung from it, shaped like bees among flowers, and Hera made a noise of assent and took another swallow of kykeon. Yes. There was Apollo as well. That boy really didn't think things through when he did end up rebelling against his beloved father. Did he truly think such murders would end up going unpunished? She shook her head.

"He might grow old, but he will not grow up," she said with a huff, exasperated but accepting. It was the way things were for some of them, youthful no matter their years, and that was important. There would be a lack of balance among their essences and in their sphere if the deities weren't some sort of mix. Hestia, however, chuckled, her amusement brightening her eyes.

"Hera, please. While I'm sure some of it was youthful impetuousness, actual adults have been just as rash as Apollo can be." She arched an eyebrow and, with a last, gentle tug to her earlobe, dropped her hands to her lap. It was such a pointed comment that Hera couldn't tell if it was an omen or not, and further, if it was, fruitious or spelling out doom. She would not accept the latter. It wasn't just about her, this time.

"My husband is a prime example," Hera said with a scoff, only somewhat exaggerated. It was as true as it wasn't, but it got Hestia chuckling, so it was a worthwhile comment to have made. "Talking of my husband and impetuousness... Hestia."

Putting her kantharos down, Hera leaned forward, stretching an arm over the small table to briefly grasp Hestia's elbow. Hestia herself obliged her and raised a hand, taking hers. The many beaded bangles around her soft, well-rounded lower arm clinked and chimed quietly with the movement.

"If Zeus could be made to consider his decisions and actions for a little longer than he ever does, then we could perhaps avoid such near-misses as Apollo almost being thrown into Tartarus, even if a punishment and cleansing was the right way to act for the murders." Hera pursed her lips, stroking idly over Hestia's knuckles, covered by a stubborn dusting of flour and a smeared shimmer of ambrosia. "He would never think he would need to change, however. I want to make sure he _has to_ do so."

This time, Hera paused there, so as to not front-load her entreaty too heavily. Not that it had helped her much while writing her letter to Hades, but she could not get hung up on that. Hestia was watching her, a small frown on her face.

"Hera... what do you mean?" Whether she truly hadn't figured it out or was letting Hera explain fully was impossible to tell, now no less than at other times. Hestia was always patient and earnest and nearly always waited for someone to explain themselves, whether or not she _did_ know what they meant.

"He can be better. We will make sure he has to become better. I have been altering the net Hephaistos made. It'll probably take some time for him to realize we're being serious, but I'm sure the change in perspective as well as having to compromise will aid in his new frame of mind."

Wide, warm brown eyes, darker than her own, stared up at her for a long, silent moment.

"Hera." Hestia squeezed her hand, then put it down on the table and let go. "I know you know Zeus better than this would imply. This will not work as you're hoping, and what this will do for the stability of the house, never mind the _sphere_..."

There it was again. Hera snarled silently, but she wasn't about to yell at Hestia of all people. She could no longer sit still, however, and surged to her feet. "Why does everyone think this would destabilize the sphere? I am not looking to change the order of it!"

"I know."

Startled, Hera stopped in her pacing between the work table and the smaller one they'd been sitting at, turning to face Hestia, who was still sitting down, now looking up at her with an earnest expression of seriousness that both revealed the usually-hidden hardness of her softly oval face and emphasized how much such an expression didn't suit her.

"If you were, you wouldn't do it this way." Hestia shook her head, fiddling with her earlobe again. "Zeus is hardly perfect, but he's far from terrible in his ruling. Hera, you _know_ he's not going to react well to this. Also, leave Poseidon out of it. He might get ideas."

Too late for that. Gritting her teeth, Hera forcibly exhaled, took another breath and let it out even more slowly. Walked back to the table with measured calm, but didn't sit down as she picked up the kantharos, finishing the kykeon.

"Thank you for the kykeon, Hestia." Turning, she put the kantharos down on the work table as she passed it.

"And leave the boy alone."

Hera paused in the kitchen's doorway, for the first time hearing a true edge of warning in Hestia's tone. Staring at the opposite wall, she huffed and left without saying either way. She did understand Hestia was very fond of Ganymede, but this would be her only chance, if it worked out. And it _would_. Perhaps she hadn't quite gotten as many together as she might wish, or even the ones she most preferred, but Hera was, after all, Queen of Olympos. She was, frankly, the largest part of this conspiracy, and she was just not willing to try and involve more people; the more that knew and might refuse, the more chance of someone actually telling Zeus before they could act.

As such, what she had now was fine, and Hera didn't expect anything else to happen until they found a perfect moment to strike. Which was why the knock on her bedroom door the evening after she'd talked to Hestia was nothing she thought remarkable. Seeing Athena when she opened the door was a surprise, however. Not that Athena never came to talk to her, and not that she never sought out Zeus' daughter herself; it was more a question of the chosen time of day and the location Athena had chosen. She did not appear at Hera’s door in the evening like one of the daughters she'd carried herself, even when she _had_ been relatively newly born.

Admittedly it'd also taken Hera a little time to accept Athena, but she'd been easier than most of the others, despite the initial insult her appearance had seemed to be and she’d felt it to be.

"... Can I help you, Athena?" Arching an eyebrow, Hera did step aside to let her in if that was what she wished to do. Athena cracked the tiniest smile and swept past her, a more graceful, paler version of Zeus, though her hair, a fine, soft pale brown, was the same as Metis' had been.

"It's more of a question of if I can help you," she said wryly as she sat down, dressed in a tunic today - she did like to veer wildly between the proper short robes and flounced skirts or the simpler dresses and straight up using tunics – sometimes even kilts or loincloths and wrapping her breasts, but that mostly when wrestling. Hera had given up on being disapproving about it. For a goddess mostly drawn from Zeus only, perhaps it wasn't so strange she would sometimes feel comfortable in male attire.

"Help me?" Her confusion was genuine, but Hera hid any additional concern or alarm. She would not assume, and thus, would not act before she knew what this was about.

"You're planning something," Athena said bluntly, and Hera would be worried she'd been obvious and Zeus was about to come down like Olympos itself on her and the nascent conspiracy, but Athena was observant and had a head for tactics and strategy. If anyone would have noticed anything to be off at all, it _would_ be her. So Hera tipped her head to the side silently, not saying anything at all for the moment. "And while I'd normally leave it be, with how you're involving others... Father might do with a lesson."

Somewhere, Hera might have bristled, a little. The way Athena phrased that didn't exactly imply she thought this would necessarily be successful. She was, however, also not saying it wasn't necessary. What this all boiled down to was, indeed, a lesson, if one that should hopefully have more immediate effect than your regular lesson might. So Hera smiled instead, slow and pleased, and dipped her head.

"He would. And while I could have done this myself, it will have more impact with more people. Especially with you by my side, Athena." And she _could_ have done this herself. It would not have been as easy, no, and it would have been far riskier, but Hera was confident she had the strength, power, and arguments to have done this herself. Involving a couple others, even aside from Athena, like Poseidon and Apollo, would simply serve to drive home the point she wanted to make to Zeus, aside from making it easier to keep the net strong.

He'd simply _have_ to listen, lacking a choice to do otherwise.


	2. Ordinary Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ganymede has a pleasant evening which turns into a very strange morning, and Apollo should learn to be more specific. Hera, meanwhile, has a pretty spectacular day. Inevitably, Zeus' day is at the very least exceedingly uncomfortable.

The shadows were warmly purple and the air scented sweet by the flowering manna trees the three youths were sitting under. There were several benches marking the inside circle of the grove, but the boys had spread themselves out on the ground, platters, kantharoi and a jug of nectar that was, in all honesty, half wine all around them. A lyre and tympanum competed for attention, sometimes managing to fall into a singular dance, but each complimenting the lone singer no matter the apparent competition between them. At least until a second voice rang up, loud and bold and---

"Eros! Shut _up_!" Hymen broke off playing his lyre, laughing while Ganymede dropped the tympanum with a last rattle to the zills to add his own protest to try and silence Eros. He was more enthusiasm than skill, and was further making an intentional racket. The complaint only had Eros' smirk widening and falling into the chorus with renewed force and thoroughly atrocious tone deafness. Despairing, Hymen groaned and flopped back onto the grass, arms and wings spread in supplication. Ganymede, however, looked around the ruins of their evening meal, snatched up a half-eaten breadroll and tossed it with no gentle force at the offending god. Eros, more focused on Hymen and his accepting despair of the aural assault than on Ganymede, missed the projectile and jangled to a grunting stop as it hit him square in the forehead and then went flying off across the clearing.

"Gross!" Eros shout was half laughter though, and his shoulders shook with it as he smoothed out the startled fluff of his wings with a sniff. "Watch it, or I'll curse you."

Sliding his fingertips over the drumhead idly, Ganymede rolled his eyes. "If so, you already have. Zeus is with Queen Hera tonight. Or will be, by the looks of how today was going."

Not that he begrudged them, but well. He might be a little disappointed anyway. Eros looked torn between being sympathetic and smirking. Hymen, still draped out over the grass like a swooning maiden, wiggled a foot around until he found Ganymede's knee, and petted it with the sole of his bare foot.

"Well, _I_ am thankful for your timely assistance in shutting our lovely goose up, though I'm afraid my particular expertise won't be of much help."

Eros let out a wordless noise of protest at his description, and Ganymede laughed softly while Hymen just looked down his body over to Eros, a pointed look on his heart-shaped face.

"You sing like a tortured swan, Eros," Hymen said, and Ganymede, who'd just managed to stop laughing, snickered, though it was soft with amusement, not mocking.

"Not even Apollo could make your singing sound pleasant, I'm sorry," Ganymede said, adding his own judgement of Eros' singing voice and ability both and Eros huffed, suddenly holding a lead arrow in his hand and shaking it at them both.

"Shut up, both of you, or you'll regret it!" His green eyes were dancing, though, and there was no threat in his voice.

"I'm regretting having to hear you sing, Lord Eros!" Ganymede cried and might have tossed some other crumb if any had been left in reach. As it was, they had thoroughly demolished their meal quite a while ago; that single roll had been the only thing left, and even that had been pillaged, as the stuffed center of savory, crumbly ambrosia had been carefully plucked out. Shaking his head, Ganymede glanced over to the jug where it'd been left near Hymen's elbow and gestured to it. "Is there anything left in that?"

Finally sitting up, Hymen picked it up and turned the jug upside down with a mournful expression. Even shook it a little, but nothing came out. "Alas, no. Not even a single drop to be shaken out by your graceful hands."

"As if I haven't poured enough for us tonight," Ganymede rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he stood up, snatching up his tympanum as he did so, "I should go back anyway. Here."

Coming over, he took the jug from Hymen and gave the two gods a wave over his shoulder with the hand he was holding the tympanum with, giving himself a brief, rattling accompaniment, the jug bouncing against his thigh as he picked his way through the stately ash trees. The scent of their flowers was heavy in the air, lingering far past the edge of the grove itself, winding together with Olympos' own sweet perfume. The sky was nearly entirely dark and embroidered with stars when Ganymede reached the stairs to the palace’s entrance and he paused there for a moment, tipping his head back and breathing in.

Flowering manna, flowers and nectar teased his nose while he looked up at the sparkling display spread out above him, and Ganymede smiled. It wasn't so bad, really. At all. He might be sleeping alone tonight, but it wasn't like he was in the least way ignored. Maybe he'd worried, once or twice, especially as years turned into decades, but... it really did look like he didn't have anything to be concerned about. Pushing those thoughts away, for admittedly there lay a darker edge underneath the breezy confidence that Ganymede didn't much feel like lingering on when his mood was this pleasant, he finally turned around and took the stairs in a couple skipping steps. Walked into the shadows with unguarded ease, for what did he have to fear, here? Olympos and Zeus' palace in particular was as familiar as his childhood home in Troy was - admittedly, maybe even more so, with more years spent here than he'd ever lived in Troy as mortal, but that was something he still shied away from. Maybe it'd be easier to face in another couple decades. Probably more than just a couple, honestly.

Humming quietly as he stepped around one of the pillars in the entrance hall, Ganymede choked on his half-singing, and it turned into a startled squeak when a large hand grabbed his wrist. The grip effectively kept him from swinging the solid if not extremely heavy metal jug at his assailant as Ganymede was pulled up against the pillar. Not even that seemed to satisfy, though, despite that he was thoroughly hemmed in between hard, smooth marble and hard, smooth body, for he was hauled upwards with an indulgent slide of another hand up one of Ganymede's thighs, bunching up the hem of the tunic as the god groped his ass.

"Ze---!" Protest or call, whichever it was it got smothered and swallowed by the kiss. The thunder of his shocked heart slowed a little as Ganymede melted into the kiss, easily recognizing who this was now that he'd had a chance to process. He still managed to awkwardly grab some small amount of hair without smacking the tympanum into the back of Zeus' head to yank on his hair. The god groaned into his mouth, the rumble in his chest setting Ganymede's bones to vibrating, and he gasped as his bottom lip was nipped in retaliation, a gasp that slid into a moan when Zeus pulled away to latch onto his throat instead.

Ganymede was breathless and squirming when Zeus finally pulled away with a smirk. A smirk, as well as a squeeze to Ganymede's buttocks where he'd been holding him up by one hand only, and let Ganymede glide down along the pillar until he had his feet again.

"I thought you were going to spend the night with your wife," Ganymede said, maybe a hair accusing and still a little breathless and definitely warm in the face (and lower...). Zeus chuckled, snagging a curl to wind it around two fingers and tug, gently.

"I am. But I would not send the dear delight of my thoughts to bed with nothing," Zeus said, and while there was warm sincerity and affection in his tone, the way his grip on Ganymede's hair tightened and the glance he sent down along Ganymede's body ended in a wider smirk, eyes dark, _affection_ wasn't the whole reason. Ganymede's blush darkened and he could not keep himself from pouting.

"Just with more reason to miss your presence, apparently, my lord." It wasn't _fair_ , curse it! Not that he didn't have more than he could reasonably ask for, had had it for longer than he would have thought, too, but it was just not fair of Zeus to do this when he was then going to spend the night elsewhere.

"Precisely," Zeus said, his voice dropping to a rumble that cut through Ganymede's confused surprise and turned it into a shiver that knotted around the nascent heat in his groin, "to make sure you have reason to keep me in mind while I can't be present."

Another gentle tug to his hair, and the sensation sent a wash of prickles over his scalp and down his spine while Ganymede stood transfixed, as much by the possessive heat in Zeus' eyes as the single point of contact still between them.

"Right," he said, and couldn't even be embarrassed at his faint voice, ducking his face away from the divine regard pinning him place. Zeus let go of his hair with a slowness that turned it into a caress, knuckles brushing his cheek, then freed him of the jug he'd been carrying. Surprised, Ganymede arched an eyebrow.

"You chanced coming back as I was fetching some nightly refreshments," Zeus said, and Ganymede couldn't tell whether it really had been chance or not by either his expression or tone of voice, "and since you already have an empty jug here... Ganymede."

Zeus had taken a sniff from the mouth of the jug, and now his gaze was pointed. Ganymede squirmed for an entirely different reason this time.

"Hestia said I could fill it from that pithos!"

Hymen and Eros had urged him to sneak past Hestia and steal some, but Ganymede was not stupid. Or that reckless. She would definitely have known if he'd taken even just a jug-full of nectar-infused wine from _that_ pithos, or those similar to it. Zeus, contrary to his earlier tone, chuckled.

"She was always too soft on you." He leaned down, which was always a sight to behold, broad and tall as he was, and despite the height difference he didn't seem to be uncomfortable bending at that angle. Ganymede reflexively raised up on his tiptoes to meet him, for as much of a difference as it made. The kiss was light and sweetly brief, then Zeus straightened and left. "Good night, my prince."

Eyeing the disappearing god, Ganymede grinned and turned down the way that'd lead back to the royal apartments. Who was _really_ the soft one here, when Zeus could still have censured him for taking wine he probably shouldn't have, just because Hestia had allowed him to? That he knew Zeus wouldn't have done that just proved the point, though Ganymede wouldn't say that.

What he _would_ utter, though, was a loud, frustrated groan the moment he could throw himself onto his awfully soft and comfortable bed. He'd hoped the walk would cool him down some, but just the reminder of the way Zeus had looked at him when he'd said he'd wanted Ganymede to have reason to keep him in mind when he wasn't present brought it all back full force.

He would not be able to sleep without doing something about it.

Groaning into his pillow, Ganymede wiggled out of his tunic and underwear, rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes while he let one hand creep down his body. This was just giving Zeus exactly what he wanted, but really, Ganymede _liked_ giving Zeus what he wanted.

He woke up what felt like much too early, face buried in his pillows, his spine twisted awkwardly with how he was bent, and a hand shaking his shoulder. Not Zeus' hand; it was too fine for that, slender while still being large. Rolling over, Ganymede stared up in blank confusion at Apollo. His hair was a loose, wavy halo around his head, revealing surprising flyaways that Ganymede could count the number of appearances of on one hand.

"... Lord Apollo?" Sitting up, he stretched and smothered a groan, glancing past Apollo out into the garden. It was still dark enough the shadows were blue, though there was a gentle shift, perhaps, in the sky. It was, either way, definitely too damn early for Ganymede to want to be even remotely awake. Looking back to Apollo, Ganymede's grimace in silent question was, honestly, more of a pout. Briefly, there was a shade of a smile lighting Apollo's face, but its appearance only made it all the more obvious how tense he otherwise was.

"I'm taking you to breakfast with the Muses," Apollo said, gesturing towards the clothes chest with a twitch of his hand before he went to twist his hair up on top of and behind his head, tying it into place with a headband. No apology, no real explanation, though it wasn't unfamiliar. In this, Apollo was much like his father.

"No mercy for those of us who wake up later, I see," Ganymede mumbled, reluctantly rolling out of bed and tying the unravelled perizoma around his hips haphazardly, just enough to get him across the floor and to the chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Apollo shift on his feet, which was strange. Apollo was usually not restless. More than that, while he'd turned to look out at the garden, Ganymede could see his eyes constantly flick sideways towards him, and a downturn at the corner of his mouth spoke of tension.

What was even going on?

Still, he got dressed quickly, only splashing some cold water on his face from the washbasin, and came back out. Barely past the bathroom door, and Apollo was just _there_ , right in front of him, a hand on his shoulder.

"Wha---"

The world flickered. Gray, soft, into rainbow scintillations that settled into the wide open space in front of Apollo's palace. Ganymede sucked a breath in, squeezed his eyes shut, and groaned. Teleporting within Olympos' bounds was tricky business and discouraged besides. Partially for politeness' sake, but aside from that, with so much power and many essences in the same place, it was just easier on everybody if teleporting was kept outbound only.

"Couldn't we have _walked_?" Ganymede complained, but even as he said it he knew that, for whatever reason Apollo had deemed it necessary they needed to teleport, of course, then, they couldn't have walked. Apollo himself looked a little washed out for a moment, gritting his jaw and forcibly exhaling through his nose as his colour returned to him.

"We wouldn't wish to make my lovely girls wait, Ganymede." The light reproach could have been playful teasing, but Apollo's eyes were dark and the hand on Ganymede's shoulder was unforgivably firm as he marched them towards the entrance. "And they do eat breakfast early."

That was true enough, the ladies had teased him about it often enough. Their footsteps echoed as they came in among the columns in front of the entrance, the shadows they cast starting to sharpen with the rising dawn. Yawning, Ganymede wanted to grumble, but he'd have to be real unobservant or uncaring not to realize something was going on by now. Glancing to Apollo told him nothing, not even when he paused them right inside the entrance, his other hand coming to clutch Ganymede's other shoulder as he turned Ganymede to face him.

"Stay here until I or Zeus come fetch you, understand?"

There were times Ganymede could swear with confidence he was used to the gods' presences, the weight of their gazes even when they weren't curbing them. Often, that was even true. Right then, it was revealed for the polite fiction that it was. If it weren't for Apollo's hands on his shoulders, he might have staggered to his knees, his heart quailing under the weight of the burning blue that was Apollo's eyes, the flicker of light around his head, his shoulders.

"... Yes, my lord."

There was no other answer he could have given. He couldn't even find the words to ask _what in the flying shit_ was going on; his brain and mouth knew only 'yes', and the title was as reflexive as breathing with the weight of the god on him. He did understand. Did that mean he wouldn't try to ask the Muses if they knew anything, later? No, it didn't. It might not even mean he'd actually stay put. He'd agreed he understood, not promised that he would do as told. Later, though. Ganymede was hardly about to run out right after Apollo at the first opportunity. Maybe whatever was going on would be settled quickly, anyway, and he'd find out from Zeus or Apollo when they came back, before he decided he had to go find out himself.

"Apollo?" The lovely voice behind them broke Apollo's concentrated essence and settled him back to normal, but even as he looked up behind and past Ganymede and smiled, Ganymede could see the tension still lingering. It turned his smile into polite, nearly desperate fiction. It felt strange to be able to read him so well, for Apollo was usually very good at keeping himself at a remove.

"Erato! Your breakfast companion for today is here." Apollo twirled Ganymede around and gently pushed him across the floor. Ganymede rolled his eyes but didn't dig his heels in or try to change his trajectory, so he ended up right at Erato's side, her long, bound tresses tickling his bare arm with soft, honey-coloured hair and the cold metal rings that sectioned the tresses off. She dropped an arm around his shoulders and flashed him a smile before looking back up at Apollo. "Father or I will come fetch him later."

Apollo raised a hand briefly and turned sharply on his heel and left. Above him, Ganymede could see Erato raise an eyebrow as she watched Apollo leave. He suppressed a sigh. With Erato, and soon the rest of the Muses knowing what Apollo wanted and who should be escorting him like he was ten out on a trip through the city and not basically an adult, he'd have nine goddesses to circumvent if he did need to leave. Great.

"I apologize for disturbing your morning, Lady Erato," Ganymede said with an eyeroll, and she laughed, bell-like sweetness colouring the air and squeezed his shoulder.

"You're always welcome here, darling Ganymede! I think I can speak for all of us that we would certainly not mind you breakfasting with us more often. Alas, as I understand it even Father Zeus has trouble luring you out of your sweet repose in the early morning. Hypnos must be pleased to be well-favoured by such a pretty face." She winked as she turned them around to set them off down the corridor she'd come from, and Ganymede blushed even as he laughed.

"There's absolutely no reason to be up before the sun if you don't have to be, my lady! And getting to sleep as late as possible is a gift I'm not about to let go of easily," Ganymede said and sighed, "but I suppose I can't say no when it comes to breakfast with you and your sisters."

He pouted, and Erato laughed again while leading him into a room that by Olympos' standards would be considered 'cozy'; anywhere else would count it as the most extravagantly sized space, with furniture literally fit for the gods scattered around the swirling mosaics that covered the floor in a riot of flowers. The rising sun, falling in through the row of tall, narrow windows across from the entrance, spaced so tightly it looked more like there was no fourth wall at all but rather a columned space open to the air that way, was colouring the creamy marble golden and limning the eight women scattered around the one large table.

"Apollo brought us our breakfast companion," Erato said, and Ganymede squirmed a little when the eight other Muses looked up and smiled, calling them both over, "and I'm sure we can keep our young guest entertained for the day, even if we're lacking in the charms of the lord of Olympos!"

Ganymede turned crimson even if he was smiling, too, as amused by Erato's gentle teasing as he was flustered by it, which wasn't helped at all by the chorus of smiles and laughter around him. He sat down under his own power as Erato slid down between Calliope and Melpomene, and soon had both artfully swirled ambrosial pastries and bread buns, still steaming, cut in half and slathered with the jam from strawberry tree fruits spread out in front of him. For a breakfast, it certainly didn't lack in charms, too, even if it was still too early!

"Is..." Ganymede turned his kantharos of sweetened, warm nectar around between his hands and looked up, glancing from Muse to Muse, "Apollo all right?"

That seemed like the easiest way to inquire about what was going on without being too pointed about it, if they did know and could not, or would not, answer. The look the nine goddesses shared was full of frowning concern, but it didn't seem to carry any warning knowledge. Which was, honestly, worse. Why _wouldn't_ the Muses know what was going on?

"He was tense all evening yesterday, but I'm sure whatever it is will be fine later today," Urania said decisively, but her gaze wandered towards the door, then back to their breakfast spread, and her slim, dark eyebrows were still knotted even as the tension smoothed out a little when Thalia fell into an anecdote about Hermes and Apollo that turned out to be very amusing. Ganymede was pretty sure Thalia wasn't supposed to know it, but he wasn't the only one at this table that now had been told something they shouldn't know.

And whatever else he shouldn't know, Ganymede was pretty sure the Muses had figured out what was going on as the day grew later, and now would decisively not tell him. It was easy to get distracted with nine people about, each who could offer a very interesting pastime alone and they could also mix and match between them. Ganymede was also always interested in learning both in general and things he was more personally invested in, which meant any chance to spend some time under Eutrepe's tutelage was as precious as any time spent with Apollo. Whenever he did remember himself, or catch a look between the Muses, or one of them looking away, towards a door or window, with a little frown, Ganymede couldn't help but ask, however. If they were all right. What was going on. Every time, the answer was the same as Urania had first given him, if then in the hope that it would be; now it was repeated in an attempt at soothing distraction, reassurance.

Ganymede was less and less reassured the longer the day turned and neither Apollo nor Zeus turned up.

When the Muses were starting to make noises about preparing for an evening meal, Ganymede had had enough. Maybe he ought to wait until tomorrow morning at least, but by now the uncertainty of what was going on had crept under his skin and lodged itself there, crawling like ants. He could barely sit still and pretend he was paying his full and undivided attention like he should and did want to and so waiting any longer was impossible. 

He had to smother the urge to ask again what was going on and if everything was fine, for if he did they would just be all the more aware that he hadn't forgotten about it. How anyone could forget about whatever 'it' was when Ganymede could swear even the air felt charged by now, unsteady, static electricity prickling his nose every time he breathed in, he didn't know. This could _not_ wait until tomorrow. Reasonably he should probably wait until after everyone had turned to their beds, but he wasn’t even sure how much or long the Muses indulged in sleep, and that also seemed like too obvious a time to try and leave, and thus would the Muses probably be more on guard. Therefore Ganymede took the opportunity after he'd been left in one of the smaller gardens, for the moment alone. He recognized this one, and while it wasn't the most ideal to leave by, there was...

An old, gnarled laurel tree right by the garden's wall in a direction he knew wasn't flush up against a steep cliffside drop. There were no branches within easy reach, but Ganymede braced himself and leaped up, grunting as his lower legs smacked into the trunk and his fingers scrabbled and scraped for purchase around the lowest branch. It shuddered and bent under his weight, but as soon as he had a better grip he shuffled sideways along it to reach the base near the trunk. It wouldn't hold for too long, but it would hold without breaking as long as he was quick about it.

Quick Ganymede certainly intended to be. Hauling himself up almost by arm strength alone and only one foot flat against the trunk to offer some extra support, Ganymede was soon climbing the branches of the tree, lingering as little as he could both for the tree’s sake and his own. The laurel shuddered and groaned around him, but he broke nothing, which he was glad for. His stomach and chest weren't particularly happy with him when he leaped again, landing smack on top of the wall, however.

Exhaling in a groaning wheeze, Ganymede looked around. The garden below and behind him was empty, as was the stretch of rocky meadow that surrounded Apollo's palace on the side and front. There was no one on the path either at the moment. Good enough.

The drop down wasn't pleasant, but aside from the shuddering shock of the landing rattling up through him and a couple bruises, Ganymede landed fine and grinned, pleased, as he dusted himself off. Easy. Now, though, he had to walk back to Zeus' palace without the Muses catching up to him - did it matter, too, if anyone else saw him? He didn't know. He didn't like not knowing, but he would simply have to be careful.

Crossing the meadow to reach the path, though, he did by taking off at a dead sprint.

###### 

If Zeus' earnest dedication to making her feel consumingly fantastic during sex was any indication of how he might conduct himself elsewhere in life and his duties, Hera wouldn't have needed to resort to this. Alas for her husband's dignity, waking up still loose-limbed and content would not sway her from the planned course of action. As such, she'd convinced him with a smile and a comment about how surely he could confide in her as much as the air and clouds that swathed Olympos' highest peak and had taken him on a morning walk instead of seeing Zeus off.

She'd let it take a pleasant amount of time, ambling through the corridors, out onto the courtyard in front of the megaron and the council hall.

"I have something important to tell you," she said and tugged Zeus towards the megaron. He arched an eyebrow, a shadow barely cast under it's heavy, perfect shape thanks to the early hour, but was indulgent of her; he, too, was feeling the lingering pleasure of last night. Unfortunate for him, for Zeus was not at all prepared, but it suited Hera and the others well. His eyes nearly glowed in the shadows among the columns in the megaron's portico, bright like the sky and seemingly as unending and untameable.

But not even Zeus, king of the gods, was safe from being bound.

He crossed over the threshold into the megaron, and Hera slipped her arm out of the crook of his elbow and pushed. The others, hidden until now, added their own strength and power. Zeus went reeling forward with a startled curse, and Olympos shuddered under their feet when the net tangled around him, winding tighter with every struggling attempt to free himself. Athena and Poseidon flew forward to tangle it more securely around him and dragged Zeus further inside the megaron, getting his arms up above him to chain him to one of the central pillars while Apollo and Hera followed behind.

The air, still as it was within the megaron with the doors closed, shuddered around them, tingling with gathering sparks that couldn't coalesce.

" _You_ \---!" Zeus snarled, but for all that he was trying, could not get anywhere. The net was holding. Hera smiled tightly, ignored Poseidon's nearly wild smugness as well as the thoughtful gleam in his blue eyes, though it was obvious he'd have to be kept distracted and on an even tighter leash than she'd thought, and squeezed Athena's elbow in silent thanks. A silvery eye much more placid than Zeus' currently were flicked down to her and Athena tipped her head briefly.

It really was a pity Zeus had as little taste for rope in the bedroom as she did - as the one _tied up_ , that was. They'd both had to accept that while they shared the interest, neither of them could relax enough in the position neither of them preferred to be in to actually get mutual enjoyment out of it. Putting aside all reason for why Zeus was trussed up in the net at the moment, he really did look good tied up, and Hera took a moment to enjoy the sight. He lost none of his imposing presence; it was merely suppressed, squeezed in tight along with his limbs, caught up in the restraints. Being tied up had rather sort of concentrated it, and Zeus was practically boiling. All that power, and so helpless while still not really vulnerable--- She shivered a little, pressing her thighs together and studiously ignored Zeus' stare and the following eye-roll, accepting that he knew her too well not to pick up on her reaction, though furious as he was. 

It didn't matter, and honestly, was just as well. 

Zeus out to please in regular circumstances was captivating enough, giving him extra incentive to be seductive made him _breathtaking_. So even if they had been compatible in this particular proclivity, she would not have indulged if he'd decided seducing her was a viable course of action to free himself. Aside from that risking getting distracted for too long and giving her husband the opportunity he'd need to escape, she was of no mind to mix pleasure with business.

There was one concern, though; she could tell they'd need to reinforce the net far more often than she had thought. The net held Zeus, shimmering in faint pulses and dissipating the angry sparks that got no chance to bloom into lightning, but the aether closest around him was practically heaving, swollen and restless. Even this soon after having been tangled around him, it was, just barely, keeping both the god and his power restrained. She would still have managed this alone, Hera was convinced, but perhaps it was indeed much better than she'd assumed to have the assistance. Pushing away any concerns and ignoring a gnawing unease in the back of her head so firmly even Hera wasn't fully aware it was there as anything but a prickling tension in her limbs that could just as well have been a mix of triumph and caution over the schedule they'd need to keep, she stepped up past her other co-conspirators and put herself just beyond Zeus' bent knees.

" _Hera_."

Instantly, all arousal evaporated due to the thundering roll of fury in Zeus' voice, the silver boil of his eyes going black as starless night, and it was humiliating, truly. She knew he would not touch her. He would not do anything to her that would make her actually regret resorting to this if they failed and Zeus got free. Which he wouldn't, because they wouldn't. There was no reason for the reflexive quiver in her gut, the flickering flinch of her essence; she was Queen of Olympos, youngest and oldest daughter of Kronos and Rhea and the wife of the god laying bound at her feet. She would fear nothing.

"Be quiet for once in your life," Hera snapped, more angry at herself right in that moment for reacting so instinctively when reason provided much for why she need not than at Zeus for being furious at this turn of events and trying to lash out in the only way he currently could. "We're only resorting to this because you would refuse to listen to reason otherwise. You can be a much better king than you are, Zeus, and now you _will be_."

She crossed her arms over her chest, lips pressed thin. Zeus stared up at her, actually silent for a surprising length of time as his dark gaze went from her, to Apollo and Athena and then Poseidon, expression unreadable, and then back to her. The darkness turned into pre-dawn, perhaps, but the charge in the air didn't lessen.

"I will, will I? Poseidon." Zeus' voice was flat. Poseidon smirked, leaning in.

"Looking good down there, _little_ brother." He laughed, rolling and easy, as if he'd made a great joke. Hera frowned, the tension in her gritted jaw tightening, not liking Poseidon's reactions to this at all. Well, it was too late to do anything but contain him, now. Zeus’ gaze flicked back to Apollo, who ducked his head, lips pressed thinner than Hera's own, and looked away silently. Stubborn and upset, but uncomfortable. Apollo's rebellions had never taken this sort of shape before, and perhaps he was regretting letting Hera talk him into this, but he wasn't about to back off, either.

"Athena," Zeus said, his voice somewhere between soft disappointment and confused frustration. Athena blinked placidly, then narrowed her eyes and sniffed. Tipped her head.

"Perhaps too much wisdom left you with me, Father." Pointed and soft, her comment roused Poseidon's laughter again, but Athena crossed her arms over her chest, didn't even look to her uncle as she stared down at her father. Zeus' eyes darkened again, though not quite unto night-black, and Hera realized again she didn't know why Athena was doing this. It hadn't seemed to matter before, but maybe she really _should_ have pushed to find out. Now, she doubted Athena would tell her, and so it would be left as another thing that _should_ have been done, or not done, and would simply have to be dealt with as it was. Zeus looked back to her again, and she straightened up.

"You would insult the advice I receive in such a way?" Silk-soft and adamantium-sharp, there was a surprising edge of warning in Zeus' words that had nothing to do with his anger at being humiliated in this way. Hera narrowed her eyes.

"The quality of the advice and the character of those you receive it from isn't in question, Zeus," Hera said, slightly taken off-guard that he'd be so offended on her own, Athena's and Themis' behalf, "it's you. It's what and how you choose to act, and on which matters. If you apply some of your vast wisdom, I'm sure you'll be enlightened as to why we might choose to do this."

"And that's all?" Pointed. Furious, Hera flushed, the heat rising to her cheeks and her head both. Taking one stomping step forward, she snapped her foot down on her husband's knee. Could feel the net's power prickle up through the protection of the sole of her sandal, numbing her toes.

"That is indeed all, darling," Hera ground out, her voice colder than Pterophoros, leaning over Zeus. How dare he insinuate this was about his mistresses! Grinding her foot down until she was pressing Zeus' bent leg down towards the floor at an angle it wouldn't normally be bent at and Zeus was glowering at her with a flinch hidden in the creases around his eyes, Hera slowly straightened back up. It really was terribly annoying he was still attractive like this, with his hair mussed and muscles straining against a net that really should have been too fine to hold him. Kneeling down and lightly laying her fingers to some of the hair-fine strings of the net, Hera fed power into it, feeling Athena's hand on her shoulder adding some of her own. Zeus flinched under that light touch, and the furious, sparking buzz of potential lightning cut off. Exhaling in a huff, she stood back up. "We'll let you think about this for a little bit and come back and discuss it in more detail later."

She smiled at her husband, sharp and cold, while Zeus glowered at her, black-eyed again. Turning on her heel, Hera caught Poseidon's lingering look to their downed brother, and she frowned. Gently brushing Athena's elbow, she strode up to fall in beside Apollo and leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

"Don't let your uncle out of your sight for anything until this is over. I will not have his brash opportunism ruin this."

Apollo's blue eyes darkened as he caught on and he dipped his head in a short, sharp nod.

Good.

The doors to the megaron closed behind them with satisfying finality, and Hera turned to the other three, hands on her hips.

"I'm going to take a brief sweep of the palace and then we'll present the details of all this to my husband. Remain here. Athena, could you take a look around the outside of the megaron?"

"Of course," Athena said, a little smile on her face, then turned and, before she left, shot Poseidon a sharp look. He only snorted and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. Probably thought nothing of it, since they didn't exactly get along well. Satisfied, Hera turned and left as well. Only a quick look around, both to make sure there would be no trouble and to reassure anyone who might need it. If she ran into anyone else on the way, that would simply be a gift of the Fates.


	3. Taking Risks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ganymede goes to find Zeus and tries to do something about his predicament. They also have a slightly awkward conversation.

Outside, the claustrophobic charge to the air was even clearer than it'd been inside Apollo's palace. Rubbing his arms roughly, Ganymede frowned as he looked around. The path, and the other distant, gleaming buildings he passed, all seemed very empty. Not that Olympos was ever like a bustling city center, for it was vast and while well-populated with the gods and the nymphs attending them, not a city. It usually was not ever this _still_ , though. The ground under his feet seemed to shiver every now and then, but nothing else moved as they would in an earthquake, so Ganymede dismissed it as an effect of his nervousness.

Something was wrong, whatever it was.

Well, he was doing what he could; on his way to find out what was going on and then, if he could do something about it, he would. Cooling evening air filled his lungs with every breath, and the long shadows cast by the setting sun were turning both more indistinct and darker with the slowly disappearing light. Distantly, he could smell the flowering manna, and Ganymede wondered at how different this evening seemed than just yesterday. He didn't like it. Shaking his head, Ganymede frowned as he eyed the palace as he neared it, having stepped off the path and was instead walking through the orchard. He was still trying to decide how to deal with the rest of his approach, but with the entrance as empty as it was, it seemed pretty safe to at least go in that way.

Ganymede stepped out on the dizzying rope-and-waves mosaic that spread out over the ground in a spiral in front of the stairs just as Ares came out through the open doorway. They both froze, Ares at the top of the stairs, Ganymede halfway across the mosaic courtyard. Gray met green and Ganymede swallowed roughly, opening his mouth. Ares held a hand up, his eyes narrowing, and Ganymede snapped his mouth closed again, throat closing up. It wasn't that he was scared, really; he'd seen Ares be indulgently fond with Eros quite a lot, and he'd been polite, if often short, with Ganymede himself. It was just...

"Say nothing. _Ask_ nothing. I haven't seen you," Ares snapped, but it wasn't a tone Ganymede hadn't heard from him before and it only meant Ares was annoyed, and probably not even at him. He was safe. But even as he relaxed a little, the implications of what Ares was saying twisted around in his stomach. "You've got some daring... Take a better route, if you intend to go deeper."

Ares gave him a sharp, narrow look, jerking his head to the side, away from the entrance behind him, and then stomped down the stairs and past Ganymede, not looking at him. When the god was well past him, Ganymede let out the breath he'd been holding, shoulders slumping. It was just, he was starting to be worried this was something Hera was involved in, and Hera often sent Ares out to fulfill her will. If this _was_ something Hera had a hand in - and Ganymede didn't want to assume - she clearly hadn't told Ares anything specific, but he also wasn't about to do something that would anger his mother.

Either way, he clearly couldn't take the main entrance. 

Didn't mean there weren't other ways into the palace. Ganymede turned back so he was in under the trees of the orchard again and went deeper in, bringing up his mental map of Zeus' palace. Where should he go? He was tempted to go to his rooms, or up to Hebe’s rooms - or check Zeus' rooms, he had to admit that was the first urge - but maybe none of those were such smart courses of action, and more than that, probably wouldn't tell him what was going on as quickly as possible.

No, to find that out, wouldn't the council hall or the megaron both be better possibilities?

Nodding to himself and now knowing where he should go as well hopefully having a good path to get there in mind, Ganymede changed his direction slightly. Further, as much as he wished to run, he slowed down into a soft-footed amble instead. Slow was better, even if nervous tension was now making his limbs practically itch and his skin crawl. It took longer than I liked, but his chosen path had him come out between the council hall and the megaron, at a slight angle from the colonnaded open side of the former building. Nike wasn't at the door, and her siblings weren't spaced out along the columns... He still crept up to have a look inside, but the vast room beyond was empty. Sunlight, just barely peeking past the peaks at this point in the afternoon, spilled like gilded blood onto the marble floor and mosaics of the divine emblems, lit up the etchings and mouldings of the golden thrones. The purple of the seats was dark enough that the gathering shadows made them look like pools of night, the sunlight not able to reach. The shadow of Ganymede's upper half as he peered around a pillar was long, and disappeared into the shadows gathering on the other side of the hall, hiding the high-relief decoration of the Titanomachy.

There didn't seem to have been anyone at all in here all day, and more than that, it felt colder than it really should. Frowning, Ganymede pulled away, ignoring the gooseflesh pimpling his arms and it was soon brushed away by the air still warmed by a day of sunlight; it really was warmer out here. Walking slowly towards the front of the building, Ganymede used the half-wild decorative greenery between the council hall and the megaron to keep himself hidden. Almost ran straight out when he spotted Apollo by the stairs up to the megaron, then paused. 

Apollo, who'd fetched him this morning, _teleporting_ them over to his place. Who'd seemed weirdly tense and told him not to leave until picked up by Zeus or himself. Apollo who was standing next to Athena and Poseidon.

Neither of those two would be what Ganymede would consider _dangerous_ , but with Apollo's warning ringing in his head along with what Ares had said, Ganymede lowered himself even further behind the flowering bush he was using as his current protection. They were standing in front of the megaron, so at least his instinct about checking the council hall or the megaron had been correct. But if they were standing there, and he wasn't going to walk straight up to them (if nothing else that'd aggravate Apollo because he'd definitely wanted him to _remain with the Muses_ ), what then..?

Slowly, Ganymede smiled. To all appearances Olympos' megaron had only one entrance and exit; the main one. If one was durable and not minding bruises, or could fly, it was of course an easy matter to jump down from one of the two upper levels and land by the hearth on the lowest floor. Ganymede wouldn't go that way, though. He probably could land with only some minor pain on the megaron's main floor by dropping down from the first of the two upper levels, but he suspected that might be expected of anyone who might try to get into the megaron if they weren't using the main entrance, which was currently... He wasn't going so far as to say 'guarded', but clearly under surveillance.

So, he'd take another way in. 

Maybe it was known about, and in that case he was possibly in for a very unpleasant time, but if it wasn't, or if it was overlooked, it'd be fine. He'd just have to take the risk. The passage went from a small niche behind the megaron, meant to be a handy spot to leave and refill the jug closer to the nearby storage rooms so all anyone inside the megaron would ever see was a cupbearer with a full jug. Hebe had shown it to him among one of the first things she had done, along with similar little passages elsewhere in the palace. It really was unfortunate those only existed in strategic spots, as shortcuts or to enhance the vision of effortless elegance; Ganymede really could have used an extensive network of partially-secret passages at the moment. He'd make do.

The gallery behind the megaron was empty, which Ganymede had both half expected and hoped it would be. This place was at least usually empty, but the unsettling stillness that had wrapped itself around Olympos while everyone seemed to be hiding lingered here, too. 

What was even going on? What did Apollo and the other two - three, because surely Queen Hera _was_ involved with this - think they could get out of this? What had they done, and, more specifically, done to Zeus? Biting his lip, Ganymede finally faced that thought head on. He'd been avoiding it so far, not daring to think about it, but... clearly they must have done something, for _some_ reason. Not killed him, he didn't think. Queen Hera wouldn't go that far, and Athena definitely wouldn't. Apollo wouldn't either, even if he might still be furiously upset over Asklepios and his punishment for killing the Cyclopes. Poseidon… no, not him either. So, whatever they'd done wouldn't be _that_ , at the very least. Suppressing a sigh, Ganymede opened the door hidden in the niche. Slipped inside the passage and made sure the door was closed behind him before he continued. Ganymede couldn't understand if this was only a way to make their displeasure known for various grievances, or what. Did they really think it would work, whatever they'd chosen to do?

From what he'd seen and had learned of Zeus, even if it was a mere drop in the ocean compared to Hera and Poseidon, Ganymede was pretty sure this was the _complete opposite way_ to get Zeus to do anything at all. He could understand Apollo being upset enough, still, to simply use this as a way to lash out. The others..? Not a clue, and he wouldn't insult anyone by trying to speculate.

The hidden door at the opposite end of the passage, set in at an angle in another niche to the left of the throne, opened without protest and Ganymede exhaled in relief. He'd been fearing one more option; that they had known, and had decided to deal with this passage by simply locking one of the doors on either end of it. Luckily, that was clearly not the case. It'd probably been entirely overlooked, since the only ones to really use it was he and Hebe.

"--- ot going anywhere until you give in, so enjoy your night."

Ganymede froze, only just having cracked the door open as Hera's voice rang through the air. Barely daring to breathe, he listened to her footsteps cross the huge room - _away_ \- and then the doors to the megaron closing. He stood there, pressed up against the cool, plastered wall for several more minutes, just breathing. No one came back. Finally, he carefully untied his sandals, left them on the floor there, eased the door open, and whispered out into the megaron's main hall.

It didn't really look much different from what he would expect. Or maybe, from what he'd _expected_ it might look, given the three outside the megaron and the way Apollo had hustled him away this morning, quiet and tense but trying to pretend not to be. The frescoes were undisturbed and bright, though they were harder to see as the fire in the hearth was low, just a little more than glowing embers. It seemed somewhat portentous, but that tangled heavily in his gut and around his ankles and would ensure he stumbled, so Ganymede had to shake the feeling away before he continued.

Easing across the shining floor, Ganymede ignored the play of shadows and rounded the pillar nearest to the throne but most distant to the entrance, having seen something clearly on the floor there from the angle been come into the megaron from. Zeus lay in an awkward sprawl, one leg folded up against himself, the other tangled at an angle away from his body in the net. Both his arms were folded along each other up above him, and aside from the golden net, the low firelight shimmering along the delicate-seeming strings, they'd added chains to keep his arms tied to the pillar. Despite the vulnerable and awkward position, Zeus didn't really look any less majestic or imposing. Somehow, despite the shadows on his face, in the hollow along his neck, he looked like he was resting.

Didn't change the fact that the air was heavy with a bee-like humming, just under possible hearing and pressing heavily down against Ganymede's skin. Didn't change the fact that sparks flickered around Zeus' body but disintegrated when they met the golden net. Didn't change the fact that seeing Zeus tied up didn't _feel right_ ; for all that he didn't look vulnerable, it was all wrong. This wasn't a position Zeus should be in. As Ganymede eased down on his knees by Zeus' head, he could see the sparks gain in strength, slowly but surely. If he couldn't help him out right now, he probably didn't have much time to do anything else, because there was no way Hera didn't know that however this net was keeping Zeus contained, it couldn't do so for long without needing to be strengthened.

"Zeus---"

"If you wish to add your grievances to this little escapade, there's safer ways to do so, Ganymede. Hera will be back shortly to make sure the net holds, and I'd rather not see her finally get her hands on you while I can do nothing about it." Zeus didn't even open his eyes while he spoke, voice flat. 

The only reason Ganymede didn't do something possibly inadvisable was the expression of worry for his safety, even when Zeus apparently thought he was using this as an opportunity to... to what? Vent his feelings over the sudden spate of dalliances that'd started happening a while ago? Still, he couldn't hold _all_ of it back.

"Do you _really_ think that's why I'm here?" Ganymede hissed, trying very hard to be as quiet as possible, anger still darkening his voice, warming his face. He might have been better at holding it in if today hadn't been pretty trying in its uncertainty, if he hadn't had any reason at all to _be angry_. "That I'd not just--- that I'd do that? What's _going on_?"

Zeus sighed then, a soft whoosh of air like rain-laden autumn wind, and finally opened his eyes, tipping his head back a little and to the side to see Ganymede properly. There was a tangled mix of suppressed anger and tired exasperation in the stormy gray.

"... No. I'm not as my best at the moment, my prince, so go now. I will not have you harmed. Especially when this might take a while. My wife and the others think they know best, and think they know how to make me better able to deal with the weight of ruling." Briefly, Zeus' tight drawl turned viciously sarcastic. It might even have been funny, in other circumstances.

Breathing in and squaring his shoulders, Ganymede slowly exhaled his caught breath and eased his fists open where he'd clutched them tight over his knees. That was as close to an apology as Zeus would get. He really did appreciate the repeated concern for his safety. But even if this was risking it, for once he wasn't going to obey, at least not immediately.

"I'm not going to leave, Piḫaššaššiš," he said, leaning forward and brushing a few fingertips along one of the net's wound strings, barely thicker than a strand of hair. It hummed under his fingers, numbing him down to the bone, but didn't hurt. Yet, anyway. "I didn't come all this way just to be angry at you for you doing what you've done before, _or_ to just do nothing at all about this."

He shook his head stubbornly, feeling the tickling brush of fine little strands of his hair lifted by static electricity against his cheeks. And he did want to do something about this. This really wouldn't go the way Queen Hera and the others were undoubtedly hoping, and Zeus would free himself sooner or later (surely), but if it could be _sooner_ , Ganymede would rather have that. It would be better for everyone not to give Zeus time to stew in the situation and humiliation. 

Zeus was frowning, now, though what he said next wasn't what Ganymede would have expected. "You really aren't angry?"

Pausing with his hands over Zeus' shoulders after shifting closer to get a better angle, Ganymede looked down at Zeus. Like this, he was looking at him almost upside down, and the angle emphasized the bold thrust of Zeus' nose, the grand sweep of his forehead and cut of his cheekbones. Ganymede arched his eyebrows and pulled a face. This was not the time to have this conversation. Not that it would have happened earlier, for Ganymede had been doing his level best to hide his feelings about the whole thing and not say anything. Which... might or might not have been very successful, he didn't exactly have experience with these sort of things and Zeus was observant even whenever he chose not to say something. But he'd _tried_ , afraid he'd hasten his own descent otherwise.

That question, put out so boldly between them finally, rather cracked Ganymede's resolve, even with the current situation. He should hold it in, but the words spilled out anyway.

"... Was I hurt? Yes. But I've got a lot less right compared to Queen Hera to be upset. I know that. Was I..." He paused, flushing and squirming a little, not wanting to confess this, because this was definitely bigger, deeper, than just admitting he'd been _hurt_ , which Zeus had obviously known but not said anything about, content to leave it if Ganymede wouldn't air his "grievances". If they really were talking about this now of all times, he supposed to should reveal at least a little. Mostly because he was reasonably sure that fear had been and would continue to be unfounded and he might not say anything at all about it otherwise. Taking a breath, Ganymede let it out in a huff, his stomach twisting. "... Was I... afraid, you'd lost interest? Yeah."

Ignoring Zeus sucking his breath in sharply in reaction or preparation to say something, Ganymede shook his head, lowering his hands until they hovered right above the net, his skin prickling with pins and needles.

"But you kept looking at me in the same way, every time."

" _Of course_." Zeus sounded so offended and bewildered Ganymede might have laughed with relief and amusement both had the situation been different. "How could I not? You must have noticed, Ganymede, that you are quite singular in some matters." Zeus said, voice wry despite the dull ache that was etched on his face. Yeah, he'd known that, really. There'd never been any stories of Zeus' interest in men, of any sort, before he'd taken him, and what he'd gone for when he strayed again was once more women. Ganymede shrugged, glancing away with awkward heat on his face, in his gut. Feeling a little ridiculous he'd been so worried, now, but also feeling weirdly pleased. 

"The only one to match would be Hera, and she's quite different from you, as you are from her. You have nothing to fear, sweet Ganymede, as little as she has, though she never seems to understand that."

It was almost funny; Zeus must be extremely angry with her, but despite that his voice had warmed as he spoke and didn't change much as he went from talking about Ganymede to Hera. His voice was instead filled with frustrated fondness over her apparent lack of understanding. Ganymede, knowing he really should hurry up, still leaned down, making his whole face numb as he awkwardly pressed their lips together briefly. 

"See, that's why."

Straightening up, he dropped his hands onto Zeus, onto the net. Zeus' eyes widened.

"Gany---!"

He tangled his fingers around the wound strings the golden net was made of. They dug into his flesh but didn't cut even as he put all his strength into the grip. Tried to pull on whatever little _extra_ he had, the bits his position came with, had over time pooled in his limbs, and _pulled_.

The busy bees became angry wasps. 

His ears popped, his veins _sparked_ , and Ganymede found himself staring up at the intricate pattern of mosaic tiles that covered the ceiling, aching all the way into his damn teeth and with no recollection of having been flung through the air or of the impact against the floor. He could swear he saw a couple wisps of smoke rise up from him and dissipate, but he could smell nothing but, maybe, burned air.

" _Ganymede_!"

The bees were back, and the air was thickening. Ganymede got control of his limbs and managed to roll over just in time to catch Zeus flinch, surrounded by a haze of dissipating sparks as he jerked nearly uncontrollably within his delicate-seeming prison. There was no sound or smell or noise accompanying it, but the pain was obvious still, and Ganymede flinched along with Zeus.

"I'm _fine_ ," he said. Or slurred, more like. Staggered to his feet and blinked, sticking his tongue out as something liquid wet his face in a trail from his nose down to his lips. Apparently ichor tasted like overdone nectar, tangy and gold. Wiping this weird and immortal version of nosebleed away, Ganymede walked back to where Zeus lay, and even did it in a straight line. Had to kneel carefully so he wouldn't thump down and make more noise than necessary, though. "See?"

Ganymede smiled, even in the face of the raw fury on Zeus' face as he raked his strangely black eyes over him as well as he could from his position on the floor while his hands twisted, flexed and finally settled, unable to pull free from the chains and physically check that Ganymede _was_ alright. All that rage was a little scary, to be honest, even if Zeus was only angry because Ganymede had hurt himself trying to help him. Considering Zeus was securely contained at the moment and thus couldn't do anything about Ganymede's ill-advised attempt to free him, he was safe. Right now, anyway. 

"Listen to me," Zeus growled, quiet enough Ganymede almost more felt than heard it, like distant thunder in his bones, "go to Themis. Tell her how this was done. She'll have some ideas. After that, you go..."

Zeus trailed off, and while he didn't look uncertain, exactly, he clearly had to think about where he wanted Ganymede to go that might actually be safe, _keep him_ safe. His eyes were gray again, and if not quite warm, then soothingly familiar.

"... Go back to Apollo's palace?" Ganymede asked with a dip of his head and had to catch himself against the floor as his balance decided that was apparently the way he should go. Zeus' frown deepened and Ganymede shook his head as he pushed himself upright, _carefully_. "Apollo pulled me off to his early this morning, told me to stay there until I was fetched again."

Zeus narrowed his eyes, but nodded curtly.

"Acceptable. _Go_."

That, he wouldn't have been able to disobey even if he'd wanted to. Sure, Ganymede had been of half of a mind to try another quick, awkward kiss, but instead he got to his feet and hurried back to the niche. He _did_ glance behind him right before he slipped into the passage, but he couldn't see Zeus very well from this angle, and he could hear the door on the other side of the hall being unlocked. Stepping inside, he closed and locked the hidden door. Slid down and just sat there for a good while, unable to hear anything of what might be going on on the other side of the wall. Wished he could, but what good would that do? Sighing, he finally reached for his sandals and put them back on.

Themis... probably was the best option. Regardless of if she agreed with what was being done, she wouldn't agree with the method, and would help.


	4. Divine Cunning, Divine Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ganymede, Themis, Hera, and the permutations thereof. A plan is made, a conversation had.

Ganymede had been in the megaron.

Of course, it _could_ have been someone else that'd sneaked in to try and help free Zeus, for that was the only thing that could've happened with the lingering scent of burned power and spilt ichor in the air, but anyone else on Olympos would know better than to act so carelessly. So, it was Ganymede. Which meant she could be certain he was _in the palace_ right now, and that gave her a chance, her only chance undoubtedly, to find him. How he'd gotten inside the megaron was a lesser, if annoying question. In the end it didn't matter; the important part was that he'd accidentally revealed himself. Wherever he'd been before, Hera now knew he was within reach, as long as she could find him quickly enough.

Striding out of the megaron after securing and strengthening the net once again, Hera walked around to the back of it, studying the colonnaded walkway. Which way would he go? There were any of number of individuals in the palace who would, at the very least, try to hide him, but a fair smaller number of those also wouldn't give him up if she could tell he was there. It was further a matter of who Ganymede himself might choose to go to, that he might think it was _safe_ to go to.

Eyes narrowing, Hera turned on her heel and started back towards the royal apartments. Hebe was in her rooms, she knew. She would start there.

Paying no real attention to her surroundings as she stormed through the hallways, Hera was, almost, regretting this. Only almost, for Ganymede _was_ a very stunning sight and certainly performed his duties with both charm and grace; she could, if pressed to admit it, understand what her husband saw in the youth. She could even say that, if Ganymede had been, or at least _looked_ , ten, twenty years older, she might, for the first time in her marriage, have been tempted to insult her marriage bed. It wasn't something she would ever admit to a single soul, not even her foster mother. In some ways the fact that she could understand Zeus this once made Ganymede's presence all the more galling. 

The greater problem here wasn't even that she could see what he saw in Ganymede. It was that she could see that this, this whole infuriating, insulting, shameless thing wouldn't, as she'd thought in the beginning, go away. They always did, Zeus' little escapades. Once, a couple times, lasting weeks and a few months in some very rare instances, humiliating and insulting all, but they went away even if she didn't make her displeasure known. Not this time. Not this once, with that perfect flowering youth practically flaunted in front of her, though the boy, at least, always tried to be subtle. 

Somehow, Zeus' exception wasn't just an exception in sex, but in the matter of the heart as well. What else could it be, when it'd lasted this long? Hera knew her husband well enough to know that no matter if it was a question of ardent desire or earnest love, it all burned out like lightning striking a tree, flaring and gone. Usually.

It almost burned worse than any of all the other ones, for she knew Ganymede better as well, if only by natural exposure and not quite by choice. Knew from Hebe's rare, careless comments. Knew from passing Zeus' study or the library while he was performing the respectable and far more tolerable task of teaching the boy. Knew from seeing him with Hestia, his on-and-off friendship with Eros. She could have dealt with all of it, if not well, to have Zeus act like usual. Have this thing with Ganymede burn itself out and then they'd slip apart, Zeus back to her and his _usual_ manner of taking mistresses, Ganymede to his perfectly performed and certainly deserved task. Leaving the youth able and free to find some other lover and perhaps a wife. It wasn't as if there weren't any number of potentially interested such among the ranks, and she would be pleased to facilitate a wedding, would even make sure he got a more than suitable wife.

(Might even be willing to go so far as to marry him to Hebe in such a case, for they clearly liked each other and would make a darling pair.)

But that hadn't happened. Wouldn't be happening. _Decades_ ; she could scarce believe it! And while that was a small amount of time in the greater course of things, in the course of Zeus it was practically a declaration of devotion. She should know. Ganymede mattered like few others but Zeus' wives had, her as well as the others, though she'd lasted the longest by far and _would be_ the last. The only thing that made up for it at all was that there was no chance of children to be conceived. It was a small, but also all-encompassing and utterly important solace, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

So she would take this opportunity and use it as the chance it was. If she couldn't find Ganymede before they'd changed Zeus' mind, or at the very least worked out some solid compromises for their goals with this whole sordid but necessary rebellion, she would have to settle, Hera knew. She wouldn't get this sort of chance again, not in terms of being able to take direct action against her husband's beloved cupbearer.

"Hebe?" Knocking on her daughter's door, Hera flicked a flake of golden ash off her dress. Looked up as the door opened, flung carelessly wide.

"Mom?" Hebe looked up at her, soft honey eyes confused. Earnest. Maybe a little wary, and that could mean many things, but could also simply be worry for the situation.

"How are you doing?" Hera asked, reaching out to cup Hebe's cheek. It was an earnest question; this wasn't an ideal situation, and it _was_ upsetting the order of things. She could feel it, everyone could. It was dangerous, to be sure, but some times dangerous was necessary. Hebe leaned into the touch with a sigh.

"I'm fine, Mom. I just---" She cut off, ducking her head, dropping her gaze. Hera heard the rest of the words that went unsaid, didn't need to ask for Hebe to finish her comment. _Why is this necessary? Do you think this is the right way?_

"It'll be over soon, darling," Hera said, ignoring how her daughter was picking at her dress, "do you want me to sit with you for a while?"

She couldn't, really, take the time. She had to go back to the megaron soon, and she wanted to use the time until then to check elsewhere if Ganymede really wasn't in Hebe's room. Which she was starting to suspect he wasn't. Hebe looked up with her vibrant eyes darkening with concern, but there was no alarm in her body language.

"Do you... have time for that?"

No. Ganymede wasn't here.

"If you really need it, I will make time," Hera chose to say, and knew she meant it, however reluctantly. She would simply have to continue looking after she'd gone back to the megaron and her tied-up husband, in that case. She could still have a chance, depending on where Ganymede might have gone.

"... No, it's fine." Hebe smiled, if tightly, and Hera leaned down to kiss her daughter's forehead and left. Where was the aggravating boy, then---

Wait. 

This wasn't a question of where _Ganymede_ would decide to risk to go, where he might feel comfortable or safe to hide. This was a question of where _Zeus_ would send his cupbearer. Hera set her jaw, admitting she'd overlooked the obvious. 

Now, where..? 

Apollo's, possibly. She was pretty sure Apollo was the reason she hadn't been able to find Ganymede all day anyway, and while she would certainly be let in, Apollo's palace was large enough it would be reasonably easy to either move the boy around or have one of the Muses help him outside while she was elsewhere in it. Apollo would make sure the boy was safe, out of her hands, as long as he could, if he could. So that was a possibility, if an annoying one. But...

No. Of course.

 _Themis_.

Hera turned sharply and stormed down the corridor, certain of her goal this time.

###### 

Themis' rooms were about halfway between the palace's "official" spaces and the royal apartments, down a small side-corridor near to the library and arranged around their own peristyle. Ganymede hadn't ever been in there past the little corridor, never really having had cause to be, but it was cozy. The yard of the peristyle was taken up by a fountain where water cascaded down a huge tripod, a circling of benches around it, and a couple potted fig trees. Wandering the little peristyle, Ganymede frowned. A couple rooms were clearly lit, but that didn't tell him where Themis might---

"Ganymede?"

Jumping and whirling around at the voice coming from one of the doors he'd just passed, he laughed nervously, trying to will his heart to calm down.

"Sorry, Lady Themis. You startled me. May I come in?"

"That is definitely for the best," Themis said, waving him over and stepping aside to let him past her, "I'm surprised you're here. I was sure you'd be quite well out of the way."

Themis smiled wryly when Ganymede looked over his shoulder guiltily. He almost set to pacing but forced himself to sit down, no matter the crawl in his limbs. He was torn between wondering how big the risk was Queen Hera would somehow burst into the room any moment and feeling like that was overstating his importance to what was going on. She didn't even know where he was, or what he was doing! She was busy with this whole... thing... with Zeus. Themis put a kantharos and a piece of ambrosia shaped like half a pomegranate in front of him, and Ganymede was pulled out of his thoughts and realized how hungry he was.

Focusing on breaking out the 'seeds' from the gilded shell at least forced Ganymede to focus on something other than his thoughts or his worries, which let the prickling crawl of tension slowly ease until he sighed, slumping a little in his chair about halfway through eating the ambrosia.

"Feeling better?" Themis asked with a chuckle, sitting in a chair opposite from him and brushing the tip of a handful of ink-black hair against her chin repeatedly, her dark eyes more serious than the gentle levity of her tone implied.

"Yes. Thank you, Lady Themis." Managing something of a smile, he picked up the kantharos and drained it to half before he set it down in his lap. "Zeus... told me to go here. You know what's going on, my lady?"

Themis sighed, flicking the tip of hair she was playing with and let it go, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"It's impossible not to notice. Hera's threatening to set the whole of the sphere reeling if she doesn't keep a tight grip on this, and even then..." A slow shake of her head, the light sliding down the sleek, dark fall of it and picking out blue highlights. "Acting without knowing the details is useless and might even make things worse, however."

"They've used a net to restrain him," Ganymede said, and Themis blinked, looking up at him. Tipped her head and gestured for him to continue. "It's not perfect, they, or just Queen Hera, I'm not sure, has to go in there periodically to strengthen it. If Zeus could just be given a little more time, he could free himself, I'm sure of it."

He wanted to lean forward in his seat and _beg_. Instead Ganymede picked up his nearly decimated ambrosia and continued to pick out the seed-shaped pieces, the little crunch as he bit down on each a weirdly satisfying distraction.

"In that case, giving him that time shouldn't be impossible," Themis said slowly, drumming the fingers of one hand against her bent elbow, thoughtful frown aimed at the wall behind Ganymede. "Unfortunately, while it must be someone who would have little to fear from the conspirators in charge of this, that will actually be the easiest part of this. What are you doing after this, Prince Ganymede?"

Looking up from his food where he only had the picked-clean half of pomegranate 'shell' in his hands left and about to tear into it, because he could tell it was ambrosia, too, Ganymede stilled. "I'm... _supposed_ to go back to Apollo's?"

Which he shouldn't have left to start with. But well. He hadn't promised he'd stay, so it was fine. If he hadn't left, he wouldn't be here. Maybe someone else would be, but Ganymede would rather not rely on maybes.

"No." Themis shook her head and stood up, walking over to a chest by the wall and opening it. "It's a wonder you've been lucky enough to get all the way here unnoticed and unhindered. Chancing that this won't happen for the whole way back to Apollo's palace is foolish, since Hera has undoubtedly figured out Apollo's involvement in your safety by now. No, you'll be safer if you go down to the stables and go to Thetis yourself."

Blinking, Ganymede broke the shell in half, worrying the edge of it enough some of the gold leaf flaked off. "Thetis, my lady..?"

Themis turned in a swirl of her dress, a cloak draped over one arm, and nodded.

"There's always one biga standing by ready to be used, and by now the horses will definitely be in the stables. You'll go to Thetis and tell her to ask Briareos to go help Zeus in the megaron. She'll know where to reach Briareos, and it's safer for you if you go to her instead of directly to him, anyway. There's few people he'd care to listen to, and even if Zeus might have sent you directly, it's possible he wouldn't consider that pressing enough."

Standing up more on reflex than thought, Ganymede found himself wrapped in the cloak as it was pinned into place over one of his shoulders, and nodded. He would really rather not reveal himself to lack in knowledge, but running off without being sure where or how he was to go where he was going wouldn't help either. He wasn't going to be responsible for delaying Zeus' help.

"Where do I... I mean, Thetis lives in the ocean, doesn't she, my lady?" Looking up while his hands worked to tie a section of the cloak together so he could safely carry the remains of his dinner until he'd have a chance to eat it, Ganymede had not a single clue _where_ in the ocean, or how he was supposed to get to someone who lived _in it_. The Aegean was huge, and while he knew any of the gods could've dived down with no issue, he... well, he couldn't part the ocean like the gods could and did still need to breathe, and you couldn't breathe underwater. Themis blinked and then chuckled, brushing his shoulders.

"I apologize, Ganymede. I forgot you haven't yet visited Oceanos' or Nereus’ palaces yet. This is what you do; fly out past Iolkos, all the way past the hooked peninsula of Mount Pelion, then tell your horses you need to visit Thetis. They will know where to go, then. From there, you dive. Do _not_ hesitate or try to steer the chariot up above the water. Dive; you'll be safe from drowning. The water won't touch you."

She smiled down at him, but Ganymede had some trouble finding a grateful smile in return. Not that he didn't believe her, it was just the idea of diving deliberately into the water...

"Right." Taking a breath and releasing it, he nodded. He could - _would_ \- do this, even if it was intimidating to say the least.

"Don't look so worried, Iliades." Themis chuckled and led him back to the door, pointing across the peristyle. "Don't go back the way you came here. Cross over the peristyle and go into my library. There's a window there; go out that way. You'll be on the right side of the palace to go past the buildings on the outside and then you can reach the stables from there. Now go."

This was probably not at all what Zeus had intended or wanted when he’d told him to go to Themis, but frankly, if it would get him free, Ganymede didn't care. He'd go to Thetis if that was what he'd need to do. He'd drive the damn chariot straight into the ocean and only hesitate before he did so. If it helped and was necessary, he would do it. The window in Themis' library was high and narrow, and Ganymede had doubts he would get through it, but he didn't dare waste time going back and winding through the palace's corridors to find a better way outside. Hauling himself up and opening the shutter, Ganymede climbed out sideways and only scraped his ass and shoulder a little, as well as stubbed his toes. Cursing, he jumped down and, trying to be quiet, ran off between the shadows now crowding near the walls of the buildings and stretching out over the ground.

The shadows were blue and the sky dark when he got to the stables, seemingly without anyone having seen him. At least he didn't see anyone at all, taking a wide path around the Graces' residence since it was relatively close to the stables. Shoving the door to the stables open, Ganymede ignored the horses for the moment to drag out the chariot instead, small and light enough it would just barely fit one person with room to stand. Going back inside, Ganymede paused long enough to take a breath. It smelled of warm, dry hay and ambrosial forage in here, of horse and Olympos' sweetness. Exhaling, he chose two horses that seemed to have nearly finished their meals, though neither was particularly pleased to be dragged out of their stalls.

"Sorry, but I don't have a choice. I can't exactly fly like the gods can," Ganymede apologized with a shrug to the first one he dragged out after she gave him a mighty side-eye. As he yoked her into place, the mare heaved a giant sigh but didn't do more than scrape at the ground with a hoof. The second one he had to practically drag out, murmuring apologies and cajoling him the whole way over. At least he stood still to be yoked into place too, and they lifted into the air with ease when he did get them moving.

Glancing over his shoulder as he passed through the giant doors, which opened just enough to let him out, Ganymede bit his lip as he watched the soft glow from the buildings scattered over the mountain. It'd be fine. They'd have this solved before morning.

###### 

"Lady Themis?" Hera was sorely pressed not to simply barge in as soon as she'd knocked, but where she might do so with many others, she wouldn’t treat Themis that way. It was just that time was slipping out of her fingers, and the more time Ganymede had to hide, the harder he'd be to find.

"The door is open. Come in, Hera." Themis' voice was muffled but audible, and Hera strode inside. Made sure not to let the door slam into the wall behind it as much as she was tempted to let it, but also pushed it open enough it did swing open all the way. No one behind it. A glance around the room revealed nothing but Themis sitting in one of the two chairs by the table, twisted around over the back of the chair so she could see Hera, the clothes' chest she'd gifted Themis ages ago, the bench on the other side with writing materials and implements scattered over it, a tripod in a corner. A mostly empty kantharos of nectar on the table, a scroll spread out over Themis' lap.

Hera's lips thinned.

"Where is he?"

There was no obvious proof of Ganymede having been in here, but she knew he _would have_ been, or was still, and while she could perhaps dance around it, it would only insult both of them. Themis, her dark eyes like tiny pools of night-sky and her eyebrows matching, cocked her head. Quirked an eyebrow just slightly as her expression turned from welcoming to straight-up disappointed. Hera refused to be shamed or back down.

"Hera. I can see why you're doing this, as ill-chosen as the method is, but if you want to continue to claim this should be about Zeus-as-king, and not Zeus-as-your-husband, then you will cease looking for Ganymede right this moment. Besides, I already sent him away."

" _Where_?" She would not be thwarted this close to dealing with the greatest threat to her position in Zeus' heart since she'd gotten married to him! She would always be forced to share; Hera knew this, and knew it well, but she didn't have to content herself to be forced to share so fully. It didn't even matter that Zeus hadn't changed his behaviour or what he seemed to be feeling for and towards her, that she had exactly as much of Zeus as she'd had before he'd brought the Trojan prince to Olympos. She simply would not abide it if she didn't have to.

"Out." Themis didn't snap, but her voice turned flat, and she held a hand up when Hera took breath to speak. "If this is about the laws and the application thereof, of order and how Zeus enforces it, _let it be that_. I disagree with the method, but, as little as I wish to risk the order to change, sometimes challenges to it happens, maybe even _must_ happen. The boy can't threaten your position as Queen or wife, Hera, so doing anything about him right now muddles the strength of your argument for why you're doing this."

"This is my _only_ chance to do something, Lady Themis!" Hera cried, allowing her frustration and, unintentionally, some hurt, to leak into her voice, out into the air. Tugging on her veil, she let go and dug her nails into her palms.

"I know." The distant cold of Themis' expression softened into something more personable and personal as she grimaced, thin, mobile lips turned into a moue. "I'm sorry, Hera, but you knew what he was like when you married him. Even more than most of us. And while I am surprised to see that boy here and not a girl somehow as beautiful, where it’d have been even less believable that Zeus gave her the position he gave Ganymede _only_ because it was well-deserved from their beauty alone, I..."

Themis sighed and turned her eyes away, up at the ceiling and the fresco of the solar system painted there. It was embellished with thousands of tiny gems of onyx, obsidian, jet and even some black opals for the inner and outer asteroid belts, lending a three-dimensional effect to the rest of the painting. Beyond those and surrounding the fresco in a swirl of sparkles was the twirling arm of the galaxy made up out of tiny quartz crystals.

"I am honestly surprised it took this long, given that Zeus seems unable to bind his affection to a single woman, no matter how well-matched to him in most terms."

Hera flushed, then deflated. Just a little, enough to allow herself to scrub her face with a hand. _Most terms_ , indeed. Zeus did have a libido she neither could nor was interested in keeping up with. Perhaps that was part of the problem she made for herself, but mostly he should be able to accept that as it was and not go wandering! Even if all those affairs he was pulled into were brief and, lately, a probably large number of them was at Aphrodite’s behest. Too, none of them had led to any of the children being acknowledged more than among the humans. So far, that was. Alcides and now Dionysos brought cold, insulted fury to her heart, reminiscent of how she'd lashed out at Leto, even when she hadn't been married to Zeus yet. She had been able to tell there'd be a son from Leto, knew what that meant. Knew she'd be deprived of the honour that should be hers if she married Zeus. Had also been angry he would pursue her while still married to Leto. The man had no tact at all!

"It ought to be enough," Hera said, squeezing an elbow. Themis snorted in flat agreement.

"It ought to be. Especially you, darling girl." She smiled, then, a tiny, sharp thing that was strangely gratifying. "I can't say I'm surprised the two of you have lasted this long, but that, too, should tell you something, shouldn't it?"

Perhaps. But it was not enough for her, and why should she settle? Hera shook her head, sharp again, and Themis sighed.

"You will only hurt yourself like this. Now, go deal with this, and leave Ganymede alone." Themis paused, eyed her with enough of a point anyone of lesser will would have been squirming under it. Hera did not. "Do you want my advice?"

Hera, almost, said no, but as little as she wished to hear it, she wouldn’t insult Themis in such a way. So, reluctantly, as sure as she was that she knew what Themis would say and she was of no mind for it, she closed her eyes and gave a single, sharp nod.

"Go back to the megaron and free him yourself, right now. He'll be more willing to listen to you if you back down on your own. You won't like what will come after if you don't."

"You know I am not going to do that," Hera said, could admit the danger in not backing down with a wry smile. Didn't mean it was a danger she was going to bend for. Themis sighed and waved a hand.

"No, I know. That is my advice nonetheless, since you have chosen this course of action."

Hera didn't huff, but she wished to do so. Nodded and left, and even if she hadn't been out of time to widen her search, she restrained herself to simply keeping a sharp eye out on her way back to the megaron. Of course, she found nothing. She hadn't decided yet if she would go search again after she'd seen to the net or not.


	5. Unwinding Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus has thoughts and feelings about his current situation while Ganymede goes to Thetis. Hera finds herself not very pleased at all with how things end up.

Zeus stared up at the second floor through the central opening in the ceiling above the hearth, idly following the pattern of the balusters he could see. It was a very familiar pattern by now, having become so over the last day, though deepening shadows hid some details and threw other parts into sharp relief. Sharp, too, was the squeezed-tight protest of his essence, echoed all the way out into very physical muscles. 

He was divine; numb and stiff muscles wasn't something he would usually experience except for in, well, exceptional circumstances. That it hadn’t taken a full day was perhaps a small blow to his pride, but the metaphysical ache that had long since radiated out to take hold of his physical body was undeniable. 

If he closed his eyes and just breathed, it almost didn’t bother him. 

The thin, glittering strands of the net pressed down in a neat, regular pattern, each tiny square the exact same size; if he didn't move much, they didn't cut into his flesh, or, worse, the deeper parts of him, the parts that actually mattered. The insubstantial weight was a deep, throbbing ache that he couldn't move to get rid of, and moving was what he wanted to do. But moving made it worse, for the net, and the power woven into it, then constricted like a slowly-tightening vise. It shouldn't matter so much, but it left his breath short unless he forced it even, it set a pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet and the back of his neck, one which had nothing to do with numb muscles. The sky could not be trapped. Clouds could not be locked up. Creation could only exist when free. Justice could be defined, but not restrained if it was to retain its function. Order, by its very meaning, had a pattern and shape and was to keep to it, and could be changed and bound, but that metaphysical reality wasn't enough to help balance his current situation, to make up for the rest; Zeus was deeply, achingly uncomfortable all the way down into the deepest parts of himself.

He was also burningly furious, and his essence-deep discomfort only further blackened his mood about the situation. It lodged stubbornness in his heart, settled his enraged decision to let the conspirators slam themselves bloody against his refusal to cooperate deep. He could not fathom that they’d resort to this, _any_ of them, and yet…

They had. That they clearly didn’t want him dead was currently a very small comfort, because it really didn’t matter.

Despite that, it was a pity he took no enjoyment from being tied up. 

Not that the circumstances would've led themselves to any sort of pleasure, but if he had been able to take some enjoyment from it, or at least wouldn’t have felt disquiet just from being tied up, he would have had a much easier time of it to use it against Hera. He knew what they _both_ got out of _someone else_ being tied up, but even in the best of circumstances and wishing to please he'd never been able to enjoy this side of the equation. To squeeze out even something as close to tenuous ease as he could to use this to entice his wife to distraction was entirely impossible.

Shifting in an attempt for some sense of comfort, Zeus bit back a grunt at the way the net scraped against him and subsided. Closed his eyes, though a frown lingered between knotted brows. If he could have, he really would have used it. If not to free himself, though that was of course the greatest priority, then to make Hera promise to leave Ganymede alone. If, when this was over, _however_ it would be so, he found she had so much as _breathed_ wrong in Ganymede's direction, she would regret it. Anything else could be forgiven since she wasn’t actually trying to have him deposed; that, not in the least. Why it didn't seem to matter that he didn't care for her any less, especially so when Ganymede occupied such a drastically different position from her, Zeus could not understand.

(Now, if either Hera or Ganymede ever showed inclination to look elsewhere, almighty Zeus might not have been so confusedly blasé about the matter, but such possibilities were buried so deep he would not ever have been able to consider them as even a hypothetical thought. Just as well, perhaps.)

Hera was a singular star, shining and perfect; their minor mismatches could (most often) be worked around. She had nothing to fear. Not even from darling Ganymede, for what he got from one could not be so easily replicated in what he got from the other. Not even if Ganymede had been female, and thus in an actual position to threaten Hera for her status as wedded wife and Queen, would there have been a true contest. Attempting to cast the boy in the shape of a woman didn't even bring an additional flush of arousal at the possibility of his one exception being rendered in line with the rest, only a vague sense of disquiet. It simply didn't fit. Ganymede was perfect as he was, meant to be exactly as, and what, he was. Since that was so, why Hera could simply not see that the domains they'd each conquered of his heart didn't so much as overlap as complement...

He simply dealt with it. 

Or, usually he would, anyway. Right now, he could not, and that deepened his anger, anchored his fury deeper. The betrayal of trust and belief in his ability to rule was insulting and bad enough, but he would not have Ganymede harmed. He didn’t even have anything to do with what they claimed this was about. Hera was simply using the opportunity in a way that endeared him even less than this escapade would have done all on its own.

Opening his eyes again, Zeus glowered up into the shadows cast onto the ceiling, the low fire in the hearth making them flicker in only the faintest of dances. It would have been easier to be reassured of Ganymede's safety and continued existence if he had more divine essence, but even brought up among them and made immortal and having been so for decades now hadn't given him enough of a presence with which he could be tracked. Anyone else it was easy to tell if they were on or off Olympos, at the very least. Ganymede was practically invisible, which was both useful and a blessing in this situation, but also deepened Zeus concern further.

There was nothing he could do about it.

And that, perhaps, was what hurt the most in the end; _there was nothing he could do about it_. Usually, there was always something. Action was ingrained in him, movement, growth, and he _could not_.

If this was even a fraction of how his siblings had felt while subsumed within their father, he felt all the more for them for it, but that Hera and Poseidon then would choose a manner similar to it...

Fury throbbed within him, and had nowhere to go.

###### 

With no divine warmth next to him like there would usually be the rush of wind as the horses galloped through the air was cold. Ganymede was glad for the cloak Themis had loaned him, though it almost swallowed him whole and the tug of the wind on it forced him to shift his legs wider and brace himself more. The land underneath the chariot was dark, with only small, scattered points of light to be found within the walls of cities and the gleam of the ocean on his left side. He'd dived down low enough there were no clouds to interfere; he could see past them what with being immortal, but it required concentration Ganymede wasn't sure he had at the moment.

It was late and cold, and while the cold did help to keep him alert, it'd been a long, weird day already. He was simply more tired than he would usually be at this point in the evening. Good thing the chariot was too small to curl up in, or he might have been tempted to do so. He had to focus on what he was doing and where they were going, so even if the chariot had been big enough for it, he had to remain upright. By the point the horses left the last bit of land, presumably flying over Iolkos' walls and out past the beach some distance beyond the city, Ganymede's fingers and toes were numb. Good thing for him it wasn't winter, then this would have been far more unpleasant. 

Now, though, as they left the sandy shore behind them and flew out over the bay, Ganymede had to face the next stage of this trip. The far more intimidating one. He'd like to drag it out further, but on the left hand side the peninsula Mount Pelion made was quickly passing by, and Themis had said he needed to be past it, yes, but probably not so very far out past it...

Reining the two horses into what would've been a trot on the ground, Ganymede leaned forward over the rim of the chariot. Could see of the gleam of the horses' eyes in the moonlight and two ears, one from each horse, turning towards him, alert and listening. This was it. No more dawdling now.

"I need to visit Thetis. Go." He shook the reins, the horses snorted - and dove.

Clutching onto the rim instead of yanking on the reins like he _wanted_ to do, Ganymede's startled breath was too sharp and airy to be a yelp, and it was left to the air behind them as they closed in on the water's surface. The rush of waves could be heard over the wind, now, and the horses at least didn't immediately dive straight down. Their descent was a lazy, angled skimming above the water, the last of Mount Pelion disappearing in the distance behind them.

 _Then_ they dipped further. 

The horses hit the water, and it fountained up around them in an impressive spray. Ganymede flinched, cursing, as the wheels of the chariot hit the water next, the chariot first bouncing and then sinking as the resistance disappeared and the water started to swallow the chariot. Whatever he'd expected wasn't what happened next, because the water parted around them like curtains drawn open. By the point Ganymede was staring down into indistinct darkness, the shimmer of bright moonlight lessening from up above, the horses, the chariot, and Ganymede, were still dry.

There were fish beyond whatever boundary that surrounded the chariot and the horses that pulled it.

Ganymede stared, wide-eyed, at the dark shapes just barely seen in the surrounding darkness, darting away from the ill-fitting intruder. _Fish_. He was _in the water_ and breathing like there was nothing but air around him. Which there was, of course, since otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to breathe like this, but if he reached a hand out he’d have touched the water. Ganymede wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disappointed he couldn't really see much of anything, since it was dark up above and they were steadily going deeper, with what little light there’d been quickly lost, because he was curious. Long, swaying shapes in the darkness revealed themselves to be seaweed when the horses swam (or trotted?) past close enough to see, and they did get an escort of a pod of dolphins close enough Ganymede could see the smooth gray of their sides, the gleam of an eye or two as a couple dolphins swam so close they almost broke the barrier between air and water.

He saw the gleam of the palace like a golden moon hidden under the water first, indistinct and soft. Then the square heaviness of the buildings could be made out, a megaron at the front, though the horses veered sharply sideways and dove into a veritable forest of seaweed so suddenly Ganymede was nearly startled enough he might have let go of the chariot and possibly been pulled off and _then_ where would he be? _Drowning_. Shuddering at the thought, he clutched both rim and reins tighter as the horses clove through the seaweed and trotted-swam into a wide, low entrance, dark despite the gleam of the buildings around them and, slowly, began to rise. Bronze hitting stone and the whisper of water against rock heralded leaving underwater behind, and the horses nickered as they took the rising path up onto a flat space that showed that it was a courtyard well fit for at a palace with its rich mosaic and the decorated doorway at the opposite end.

The horses came to a stop, and Ganymede, looking around a little uncertainly, finally allowed himself to slump against the chariot for a moment. He was fine. That had gone _great_. Never mind the slight tremble to his hands and the fact that this was just the first part of this, he was here at least. The door opened just as Ganymede dared to test his legs by jumping off the little chariot, and he looked up at the approach a stately, if willowy, woman. Her hair shone like liquid darkness, highlighted in dark, watery blue-green where the warm light from the lamp she carried hit it, twisted up on the sides in a similar fashion to how Aphrodite often favoured. The rest was left in bound tresses, the ends swaying low against Thetis' body, all the way down by the tops of her thighs.

"You're visiting late..." Thetis trailed off, holding the elegant metal lamp up between them. Vivid blue eyes widened, briefly shielded by the surprised flutter of her eyelashes. "Zeus' cupbearer?"

At least he wouldn't have to explain who he was, only why he was here.

"Father Zeus needs your assistance, Lady Thetis. Themis sent me here," Ganymede said with a quick little bow, and Thetis frowned, pressing her lips together.

"I've felt it..." She glanced over her shoulder, over to the doorway she'd come through, where another couple young-looking women now lingered, half-hidden. She waved them out. "Leave the chariot here, my sisters will see to the horses."

Holding an arm out, Thetis ushered Ganymede inside as she followed him, the light hand on his shoulder strangely maternal despite that, as far as he could remember, she was not married, had no children, and they certainly weren't related. It... was still nice, that light weight, and a bit of a relief to just follow along instead of having to think about what to do next, what he could even do, or what he had to do. Not that the respite lasted long; soon Ganymede found himself sitting in front of a lit hearth, the fire warming the mosaic floor under his feet, gilding the frescoes of frolicking hippocampi and what looked like the Nereids dancing with their lone brother. Blinking at the cup presented to him, Ganymede took the kantharos a little belatedly, sighing quietly as the warm metal brought his fingers back to life.

"What is going on?" Thetis sat down in a second diphros on the other side of the fire, and Ganymede took momentary refuge in drinking the hot nectar. What was he supposed to say? The _truth_? Thetis had been fostered by Queen Hera herself, he knew, so would she really be so very eager to go against her foster mother to help Zeus? Presumably, otherwise why would Themis have sent him here? Ganymede still hesitated, uncertain. Lying seemed worse, for many reasons, but...

Finally, he put the cup back into his lap and straightened up, though couldn't resist worrying his bottom lip. "Queen Hera, Poseidon, Athena and Apollo are in open rebellion, trying to force change by chaining Father Zeus so he has to give in to their demands."

Brilliant blue eyes widened, and then Thetis moaned, slumping over her hands and hiding her face in them. Ganymede bit his lip again. This had been a mistake. He should have lied. Except, what was that for sort of way to behave to return things to rights?

"Mother Hera... Why do you think this is the way?" Thetis groaned and merely sat there for a long moment, neither ordering him out but also not saying anything else. Finally, she dropped her hands into her lap, eyes closed for a moment longer as she sighed. "You said Lady Themis sent you to me?"

Not daring to hope, Ganymede nodded, worrying the pattern of the trailing arms of the octopus that decorated the kantharos in his hands.

"She said you could send Briareos to help him, my lady."

Thetis' eyes were fathomless as she stared into the flames, silent and still for several long moments. Finally she sighed and stood up.

"Wait here."

Minutes crawled by, and Thetis didn't return. Ganymede remembered his kantharos was still mostly-full, and luckily the nectar would stay warm until he'd emptied the cup out, so he sat there sipping it. Then also remembered the remains of the ambrosia he still had on him and untied the portion of the cloak where he'd stashed it and sat there picking the piece apart into gilded strips, gold leaf flaking all over his lap while he slowly emptied the cup and ate the ambrosial leftovers. He felt like he should think of what to do next, if Thetis wasn’t actually going to help but doing something else, but his brain was lazily empty. He'd been cold in the chariot, but the room was warm. He couldn’t do much more but just sit there, for getting up and having a look around seemed rude and besides, he was tired. Moving seemed too much effort.

Despite that, Ganymede didn't exactly fall asleep. He watched the dancing play of the flames in the hearth, still somewhat fascinated that the glare didn't hurt to look at, left no overexposed after-images on the insides of his eyelids. Again, Ganymede knew he should probably try to plan, but the only thought that came was wondering how long he’d been sitting here, and how long would it take, if this Briareos even agreed to help. Technically Thetis hadn't actually said she'd help, or that she was going to do what was wanted of her. Maybe she'd gone to Olympos herself to talk to her foster mother, reveal the attempt to help Zeus. Maybe he should get up and leave, just to be sure...

The door slammed into the wall and Ganymede jolted into awareness, falling off the diphros with a startled yelp. There were dolphins on the ceiling. The dolphins disappeared for Zeus' tense face and Ganymede was swept up into his arms in a move that lifted him up effortlessly while also seeming to have hands _all over_ in the bare few seconds it took for Zeus to stand up, checking him over.

"Ganymede---"

"Why are you worried about _me_?" Laughing, though mostly because he was so damn relieved and maybe a little overtired, Ganymede grabbed Zeus' by both beard and hair and kissed him. " _I'm_ not the one who got trussed up like a goose for slaughter as well as whatever the net was doing."

Gray eyes narrowed and Ganymede's smile turned sheepish from the way Zeus' grip on him tightened.

"The _net_ , yes. Which you thought fit to try to pull apart with your bare hands, my prince."

The 'my' rumbled like quiet thunder between them, and Ganymede flushed but refused to give an inch. 

"And I'm fine. Which you know, since you just checked." Or more like groped him, but this was Zeus so it was one and the same, though the concern was of course entirely genuine. "Did Lady Themis explain..."

"Yes. She also gave me advice." Advice Zeus was clearly not very keen on at the moment, and while it could be a couple things, Ganymede wondered if he didn't know what it was. Zeus grunted and turned. "Hold on. We're going back to Olympos."

"I don't think the biga is big enough for us both, or even just you alone, my lord." Ganymede's attempt at teasing didn't so much fall flat as it was rejected, with Zeus shaking his head, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Thetis and her sisters will take care of the horses until later today. Iris or Hermes will fetch them. I'm not waiting for the time it'll take for the chariot to reach Olympos to deal with---"

"Tomorrow, Zeus. Or, later today, I guess."

"What?" Baffled anger turned Zeus' voice raspy with distant resonance, and once that would have silenced Ganymede. Once he wouldn't even have voiced the words that now had provoked what at the moment was understandable temper. Now, though he was a little wary to press on, Ganymede leaned in over Zeus, his hair falling forward to almost shield them both as he leaned his forehead against Zeus’ and caressed the cut of Zeus' jaw, fingers combing through his beard.

"Can you deal with them tomorrow, Piḫaššaššiš? Please. I'm tired."

And he _was_ tired; even more so now with Zeus here and free again. Admittedly he had another concern, too, to push for Zeus to wait, assuming Zeus would want to spend a couple hours in bed with him, just resting when he was still angry, but Ganymede was pretty sure that, at least, was the least uncertain part of the rest of the night. His larger concern wasn’t about that, right now. Maybe Zeus would be able to dole out suitable punishments tonight and Ganymede was being overly cautious, but he'd rather that than the reverse. Apollo didn't deserve his father coming down with the fury of humiliated insult he was probably taking this as, as well as being fuelled by the aching tiredness that was still, if barely, apparent on Zeus' regal face. Zeus stared at him for a long, silent moment, then his mouth and eyes both softened.

"All right."

The flicker of scintillating light as the room in Thetis' house dissolved and reformed into Zeus' bedroom was reassuring instead of nauseating and concerning as the teleport with Apollo had been, and Ganymede was almost asleep before he'd managed to undress. Zeus chuckled somewhere above him, and Ganymede pulled a face that was more pout than grimace. Large hands helped with his belt, and after that he didn't need to do a single thing to end up on the bed, Zeus wrapped around him. It was usually his favourite way to fall asleep; right now it was all the better of one.

###### 

When the Hundred-hander came barging across the courtyard, one of the ones they couldn't have easily dealt with, Hera understood what Themis had done. 

She hadn't just sent Ganymede out of the palace and back to Apollo's; she'd sent him _out_. Out to someone who could call for this one of all of them. She couldn't even be upset with Thetis - for it would be no other - rather, Hera was frustrated, and maybe a little concerned. _You won't like what comes after if you don't_ Themis had said, and she'd dismissed it then, for what would Zeus even do to her that she would end up honestly _not liking it_? 

Now... she might be a little unsettled despite herself.

"Ah, fuck." Poseidon groaned, backing away from the megaron's front steps and running a hand through his hair, sounding more exasperated than afraid for what the potential consequences might be when Zeus freed himself. For he would, now. With Briareos shoving his way into the megaron and taking up residence, it'd take them far too long to fight him to get at the net to reinforce it; Zeus would be able to free himself now whether they tried to fight it or not.

They felt it when it happened, about an hour later. 

Briefly, the squirming shuddering of the aether around them stilled as order was restored, a sweet becalming that was more reassuring than Hera would have thought it would be. Then Olympos _quaked_. The sky above them darkened as clouds covered paling moon and stars, and the air grew thick and charged enough static electricity caught between skin and clothes, between fine strands of hair.

Hera crossed her arms and widened her stance, thrusting her chin up just as the doors slammed open.

She would not ever admit that the glittering vision of fury at the top of the stairs, Zeus' dark hair nearly floating around him and sparks of hot bluish-white like a crown on top of his head, a cloak around his shoulders and down his back, stirred emotions that might have had nothing to do with _fear_ in her. Not only fear, anyway. He took one step, and she could taste the lightning at the back of her tongue, her fingertips tingling. A second, and she flexed her fingers, gathering power and bracing herself entirely reflexively. A third, and Themis walked past her, a vision of solid calm in the middle of the impending storm, and met Zeus at the bottom of the stairs.

"Themis---" The growl ripped through the air, their bodies. Themis leaned in - she was of a height with Zeus, and so it was an easy task for her - whispering something in his ear that couldn't be heard. It took longer than anything Hera might have guessed for Themis to say, and at the end the stars were peeking through the ripped quilt of clouds, though thunder was still lingering in the distance. Zeus pulled away from Themis and shot them all a bright-eyed, glowing stare. "I will deal with this momentarily."

And then he disappeared.

The possible storm lingered through the dawn hours and late into the day, when Apollo and Poseidon were sent down off Olympos, to Earth. Stripped down and forced to labour for a human - at least Apollo was used to it, and he took it with quiet acceptance. In sharp contrast, Poseidon was appalled and insulted enough to rage about it as he was forced down. It was clear who the punishment really was for. For Apollo, it was more of making a point.

When it came to Hera and Athena...

At first, Hera saw nothing that might be considered a punishment, which was both a relief, a little insulting, and somewhat strange. Themis' warning had carried a true edge of foreknowledge, if not a full oracular statement, so it was unlikely it wouldn't happen.

Three days later Hera understood, and indeed she _did not like it_.

This was nearly worse than any direct punishment Zeus could have given, for he was _ignoring her_. Athena as well, and she seemed rather discomfited by the whole affair. She was one of his favourites – his most favoured, arguably, and Zeus hadn't ignored Athena once in her whole, gloriously beloved life. Hera wished she could label it as petty, and maybe if it'd only had to do with ignoring her in her rooms, in the corridors of the palace, avoiding their marriage bed for Ganymede's company, that was all it would have been.

It was not that.

It was worse than that.

He was ignoring both her and Athena in the megaron, in the councils. It made it clear how much influence she (they) usually had on Zeus in terms of ruling, whether he actually took their advice in full, in part, or elected to completely discard it.

Now, he wasn't even listening. It was infuriating. It was terribly on the nose. Themis had been right; she certainly didn't like it. 

It took almost a full month of stonewalling until he came to her, silently standing in the doorway to her rooms that last evening, offering her a hand. Briefly, Hera was of a mind to snub him for the cold insult of reducing her to voicelessness in matters that were so very important, but as an answer to her reasons for acting against him at all and as a punishment, it was admittedly awfully fitting. So, with a sigh and an eyeroll, Hera stood up, dropping her veil on the way over, and took the offered hand. Zeus led her just as silently to their shared bridal chamber.

In the morning things were back to normal, and while her issues with her husband's method of ruling weren't entirely wrong, as such, she'd rather discounted how much power Zeus' advisors had on him for more personal reasons. Paying greater weight to those personal reasons while acting on her more _general_ ones had given her a chance to deal with the more personal side of things, and now that window of opportunity had well and truly closed. 

She would simply have to live with it and work on affecting what she could. It was not an insignificant power, and she would rather have that than sole sovereignty over Zeus' heart.

It still burned her, but she was as much the Queen as she was a wife, and Zeus truly did not need to listen to anyone at all if he wasn't of a mind to it. But he did listen, no matter how infuriating his actions sometimes were, and Hera, oldest daughter of Kronos and Rhea, would have nothing less.


	6. Epilogue: Laomedon's Folly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the rebellion, Poseidon and Apollo have returned, but their "warden" hasn't shown as good of a judgement as was expected of him. Ganymede understandably despairs over it.

Hebe and Athena were sitting in Athena's small crafts room, the one attached to her bedroom instead of the large one anyone in the household used, when Ganymede stuck his head in after knocking on the partially open door.

"My lady, have you see--- Hebe!" Despite that he was clearly glad to see her, he groaned loudly, the sound _just_ throaty enough not to be closer to sweetly obscene, and slumped against the door. Only came inside when Athena tipped her head in invitation, a small, amused smirk on her face, though it contrasted against the sharp quirk of a heavy eyebrow.

"Ganymede?" Hebe stared at him, utterly baffled as he came over to collapse by at her side, head drooping to her thigh. "What _is it_?"

She couldn't tell whether he was genuinely distraught or just utterly vexed, but she couldn't not drop one hand on top of his soft curls, even if that halted her current spinning efforts. Maybe Ganymede himself didn't know what he currently felt as he threw an arm over his face, hand in a tight fist.

"Apollo and Poseidon finished their punishment," he said after a short moment of silence, shifting his weight more firmly against Hebe, and there was a little catch there, in his voice, which caused Hebe to start combing through his hair, frowning now, "and finished the wall. Laomedon _refused to pay them_."

Oh.

Oh no.

"I mean, _who does that_?" The potentially-trembling catch in Ganymede's voice tipped over into groaning exasperation again, full-throated frustration giving his bright tenor surprising depth. "There's no way what they asked for as payment would be anywhere near what'd he'd have had to pay if he'd hired regular workers, bought quarried stone the usual way. There were only two of them building the wall! They finished it _in a year_!"

Ganymede dropped his arm, looking up at Hebe upside down, his green eyes stormy and lips pressed thin for a moment.

"It'd be obvious to _anyone_ they couldn't be regular mortals, so who would do something as stupid as _refusing to pay_?" Ganymede slapped both hands over his face, dragging his fingers down it, digging into the soft skin and groaned again.

"... What did they do?" Hebe sighed, pressing her lips together. There was no question of if, only what. As gods, and wronged at that, they had all right to take out their ire on Laomedon, and with him being a king, it would fit his influence. Yes, their service to Troy had been a punishment, which was, of course, why the wall had taken a year to build and hadn't been erected at a moment's thought, but that did not take away the fact that refusing to pay for their service was both a flagrant insult and not Laomedon's place to refuse. Zeus had given their punishment, so only he could have refused their labour its worth. Something Zeus wouldn’t do as their labour _had worth_ and should be paid for; a lack of payment wasn't the punishment.

"There's a sea monster roaming Troy's harbour as well as the sea just beyond it, and the city is plagued," Ganymede said slowly, vexation draining for hollowness as he scrubbed his face, "I just don't understand. He's _supposed_ to be a fair and just ruler, otherwise Zeus wouldn't have sent them there."

"I don't know, Ganymede..." Hebe frowned, dropping her spindle and the wool into her lap to concentrate on running her hand through his hair - though admittedly that was partially selfish, as much as it was to try and impart some comfort. Ganymede's hair was wonderfully soft, and the curls caught around her fingers like teasing birds briefly landing there, sliding away at touch instead of clinging. Mostly she did do it in the hope to soothe him, his upset and confusion understandable. Zeus _would_ only have sent Poseidon and Apollo to Troy if Laomedon could be reasonably trusted to treat his new, unexpected servants with fairness, especially so when Troy was one of her father's most favoured cities.

"Emotion can make people act in irrational ways," Athena said, drawing both Ganymede and Hebe's attention while she continued to work at her loom, the cloth she was weaving just barely revealing a pattern of interlaced lilies over the pale, shimmering fabric, "even more so when it comes to family, and inherited grudges."

"... My lady?" Ganymede straightened up a little, but didn't really move away from Hebe's thigh or her hand, and flicked a glance up to Hebe, who shifted one shoulder in a quick, bewildered shrug.

"What did King Ilus think of the honour you've bestowed on the house through Zeus bringing you here, Ganymede?"

His breath caught and Ganymede swallowed, grimacing. "I... well. He clearly wanted me to stay, when I said goodbye to my parents, but... he only asked Zeus to take care of me, and then let go."

But well, what else was Ilus supposed to do? It wasn't like he could actually have stood against Zeus, something which Ganymede also wouldn't have wanted him to do even if he hadn’t wanted to remain on Olympos and at Zeus' side, then or now. Athena glanced over her shoulder, head cocked and her gray eyes soft, but pointed.

"He did what he had to do, which says nothing of what he actually would have _wanted_ to do, no matter if he knew with his rational mind that Troy gained and continue to gain, much from your presence and Father's favour," Athena said, frowning at her weaving now, minimally tugging to adjust some of the threads she'd just combed into place.

"But Laomedon isn't---"

"Children pick up many things from their parents, even things they might not know they're teaching." Another tug, a careful, skillful twist of long, strong fingers. "Of course, that might not be the reason why Laomedon failed in his judgement here, but it is a possibility. Another might simply be that some men, when faced with plenty, even if they are otherwise just and fair and wise, fail when put to the test."

Ganymede frowned, closing his eyes and throwing an arm over them again. Truly didn't know which option might be preferable.

"I wouldn't... want to be the reason, but the other is not much better at all," he finally said with a groan, "I just can't believe he'd be that _stupid_!"

With little left to do to help, Hebe bit her lip, sighed, and picked up her unspun wool. "Hold this for me, would you?"

Ganymede held his other hand out without complaint, and Hebe dropped the wool there, alternating between combing her hand through Ganymede's hair and focusing on spinning. None, except perhaps Athena, who glanced over her shoulder towards the door and then faced forward again, noticed the passing of shadows past the door. The steps were quiet enough the silence that'd fallen in the room didn't betray Hera and Zeus as they passed by after pausing.

Neither of them spoke until they'd reached the bottom of the stairs and turned down the corridor that led to Zeus' rooms.

"You are exceedingly lucky he is clever enough to see where blame lays, as well as fair-minded and not the type to lash out at the closest available _obvious_ target when emotional," Hera said, scoffing to hide how she was reluctantly impressed. The youth was still young, even if he'd lived well beyond a mortal lifetime by now. Zeus, though he'd initially flinched when they'd overheard Ganymede's despairing frustration, first glanced to Hera in utter bafflement. When she arched an eyebrow, cool and narrow-lipped, Zeus _almost_ flinched again as he caught on, though instead he let out the tiniest of sighs.

"I suppose I am, yes," he said tightly, and clearly expected her to make another pointed comment. But what was there for her to poke at, here, when Ganymede had showed a rather exemplary understanding of the circumstances _and_ showed himself mature enough - if that was truly what it was - not to blame Zeus, who'd put Poseidon and Apollo to service in his home town? Instead Hera shook her head.

"Come play a game of Ur with me. It's been a while."

Perhaps it was annoying the boy was both sweet-natured and clear-eyed, though that merely proved that the beauty shown without was true for what was within. One could also not fault him for correctly deducing the reasons Zeus had placed Apollo and Poseidon's punishment at Laomedon's hands... or, truly, fault him for being upset when Laomedon showed himself to not be able to pull through with what previous character had implied he was capable of. _That_ , though, Hera could not find any sympathy about.

"You've been losing to Athena again, I see," Zeus said, a smirk hovering at the corner of his mouth, and Hera huffed, nose in the air.

"If you are going to be a bore, darling, I retract my offer. I do have other things to do."

"When we're already here? It would be a pity for you to have come with me all this way."

As if their marriage bed wasn't just down this corridor and her own rooms in the corridor across the peristyle! Hera still let Zeus lead her inside and found her favourite chair, allowing him to set the game up. A distraction for her as well as him, for she really didn't need to be further reminded of the failure that'd led to Apollo's and Poseidon's service at Troy, and Zeus was clearly disappointed in Laomedon's actions... for several reasons. Some of which Hera, again, didn't particularly wish to consider more closely than she had to. A round of the game would thus help them both.

Later, though, the probable reason for Laomedon's ill-advised behaviour against his clearly not human wall builders was made more than clear. Poseidon and Apollo had been back from Troy for almost two years when Eos came to Olympos with a petition for an audience and a favour of Zeus. 

She came into the megaron with a youth just shy of twenty, stunning and godlike in his grace, and asked Zeus for his assistance in making Tithonos of Troy immortal. It did not take Ganymede much effort after that to find out exactly when Eos had kidnapped the boy, or who his father was; about a year before Poseidon and Apollo were put in Laomedon's service. Eos had not been able to be as subtle about it as she had almost had a chance to be when it came to Ganymede, and so everyone had known, even without the benefit of Hermes playing messenger, what had happened to another prince of Troy.

No wonder Laomedon had lashed out, against his reputation of being a fair and just ruler, though he'd chosen very badly _how_ to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myth check: There's no explicit connection between Apollo and Poseidon labouring for Laomedon and the uprising of Hera, Athena and Poseidon (some later sources make Apollo and Poseidon's presence at Troy a check for piety), but I decided to connect these two events because it made sense to me. Especially since they do it for such a long time, it seemed more fitting that it be a punishment, and that doesn't go against any possible payment Laomedon would have promised them for their labour.


End file.
